THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

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Mrs.  George  Papashvily 


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THE  MASSARENES 


JHE 

MASSARENES 


BY 

OUIDA 

AUTHOR  OF  "UNDER  TWO  FLAGS,"  "SYRLIN" 


NEW  YORK 
R.  F.  FENNO   &   COMPANY 

112    FIFTH   AVENUE 


LONDON  :  SAMPSON  LOW,  MARSTON  &  CO. 


Copyright,  1897 

BY 
FENNO   &  COMPANY 


\\ 


The  Massarenet 


CTFF 


TO 

A  BEHOVED 


THE    LADY    HOWARD    OF    GLOSSOP. 
(WINIFRED  MARY  DE  LISLE.) 


053 


NOTICE. 

IN  case  it  may  be  supposed  that  the  African  episode 
in  this  book  was  suggested  by  recent  events  in  the 
Transvaal,  I  desire  to  state  that  it  was  written  four 
years  before  the  Jameson  raid  occurred, 

OOHML 


THE  MASSAKENES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  MOUSE,"  said  her  husband  to  Lady  Kenil worth,  one 
morning  at  Homburg,  "  do  you  see  that  large  pale  woman 
over  there,  with  a  face  like  a  crumpled  whitey-brown 
paper  bag  ?  " 

Lady  Kenilworth  looked. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  impatiently.  "Yes.  Well?— what? 
-why?" 

"  Well,  she  rolls — she  absolutely  rolls — wallows — big- 
gest pile  ever  made  out  West." 

His  wife  looked  again  with  a  little  more  attention  at 
the  large  figure  of  a  lady,  superbly  clothed,  who  sat  alone 
under  a  tree,  and  had  that  desolate  air  of  "  not  being  in 
.  t"  which  betrays  the  unelect. 

"  Nobody  discovered  her  ?  Nobody  taken  her  up  ?  "  she 
asked,  still  looking  through  her  eye-glass. 

"  Well,  old  Khris  a  little  ;  but  Khris  can't  get  anybody 
on  now.  He  does  'em  more  harm  than  good.  He's  dead 
broke." 

His  wife  smiled. 

"  They  must  be  new,  indeed,  if  they  don't  know  that. 
Would  they  be  rich  enough  to  buy  Vale  Royal  of  Gerald  ?  " 

*•  Lord,  yes ;  rich  enough  to  buy  a  hundred  Gerrys  and 
Vales  Royal.  I  know  it  for  a  fact  from  men  in  the  City : 
they  are  astonishing — biggest  income  in  the  United  States, 
after  Vanderbilt  and  Pullman." 

"  American,  then  ?  " 

"  No ;  made  their  4  stiff'  there,  and  come  home  to  spend 
it." 

"  Name  ?  " 

(5) 


8  THE  MASSAEENE8. 

"  Massarene.  Cotton  to  her  if  you  can.  There's  money 
to  be  made." 

"  Hush !  somebody  will  hear." 

Her  lord  chuckled. 

"  Does  anybody  know  these  dear  souls  and  their  kind 
for  any  other  reason  than  the  flimsy  ?  She's  looking  your 
way.  You'll  have  to  introduce  yourself,  for  she  don't 
know  anybody  here.  Make  Boo  fall  down  and  break  her 
nose  in  front  of  her." 

Boo  was  a  four-year-old  angel  with  lovely  black  eyes 
and  bright  yellow  hair,  the  second  child  of  the  Kenil- 
worth  family.  Accompanied  by  one  of  her  nurses,  she 
was  playing  near  them,  with  a  big  rosy  bladder  tied  to  a 
string. 

" 1  don't  think  the  matter  so  difficult  that  Boo  s  nose 
need  be  sacrificed.  At  what  hotel  is  this  person  stay- 
ing?" 

u  At  ours." 

44  Oh !     Then  the  thing's  very  easy." 

She  nodded  and  dismissed  him.  She  was  on  fairly  good 
terms  with  her  husband,  and  would  make  common  cause 
with  him  when  it  suited  her ;  but  she  could  not  stand 
much  of  his  society.  She  took  another  prolonged  stare 
through  her  eye-glass  at  the  large  pale  woman,  so  splendidly 
attired,  sitting  in  solitude  under  the  tree,  then  rose  and 
walked  away  in  her  graceful  and  nonchalant  fashion,  with 
her  knot  of  young  men  around  her.  She  was  followed  by 
the  dreary  envious  gaze  of  the  lonely  lady  whose  counte- 
nance had  been  likened  to  a  large  whitey -brown  paper 
bag. 

44  If  one  could  but  get  to  know  her  all  the  rest  would 
come  easy,"  thought  that  solitary  and  unhappy  outsider, 
looking  longingly  after  that  pliant  and  perfect  figure  with 
its  incomparable  air  of  youth,  of  sovereignty,  and  of  in- 
difference. What  was  the  use  of  having  an  income  second 
only  to  Vanderbilt's  and  Pullman's  ? 

There  are  things  which  cannot  be  purchased.  Manner 
is  chief  amongst  them. 

Margaret  Massarene  was  very  lonely  indeed,  as  she  sat 
under  the  big  tree  watching  the  gay,  many- colored,  ani- 
mated crowd  amongst  which  there  was  not  a  creature  with 


THE.  MASSARENES.  7 

whom  she  had  even  a  bowing  acquaintance.  Her  lord 
and  master,  of  whom  she  stood  in  much  awe,  was  away  on 
business  in  Frankfort ;  her  daughter,  her  only  living  child, 
was  in  India ;  she  was  here  because  it  was  the  proper  place 
for  an  aspirant  to  society  to  be  in  at  that  season  ;  but  of 
all  this  multitude  of  royal  people,  titled  people,  pretty 
people,  idle  people,  who  thronged  the  alleys  and  crowded 
the  hotels,  she  did  not  know  a  single  creature.  She  envied 
her  own  maid  who  had  many  acquaintances  with  other 
maids  and  couriers  and  smart  German  sergeants  and 
corporals  of  cavalry. 

On  the  previous  day  she  had  made  also  a  fatal  mistake. 
As  she  had  crossed  the  hall  of  her  own  hotel,  she  had  seen 
a  fair  small  woman,  insignificantly  dressed,  in  a  deer- 
stalker's hat  and  a  gray  ulster,  who  was  arguing  with  the 
cashier  about  an  item  in  her  bill  which  she  refused  to 
pay :  so  many  kreutzer  for  ice  ;  ice  was  always  given 
gratis,  she  averred ;  and  she  occupied  the  whole  window 
of  the  cashier's  bureau  as  she  spoke,  having  laid  down  an 
umbrella,  a  packet  of  newspapers,  and  a  mackintosh  on 
the  shelf.  Indignant  at  being  made  to  wait  by  such  a 
shabby  little  person,  Mrs.  Massarene  pushed  her  aside. 
"Folks  as  has  to  count  pence  shouldn't  come  to  grand 
hotels,"  she  muttered,  with  more  reason  than  politeness, 
elbowing  away  the  shabby  fair  woman. 

The  shabby  fair  woman  turned  round  and  stared,  then 
laughed :  the  cashier  and  the  clerk  were  confounded,  and 
lost  their  presence  of  mind.  To  the  shabby  fair  woman  a 
man  in  plain  clothes,  obviously  her  servant,  approached, 
and  bowing  low  said,  "  If  you  please,  madam,  his  Imperial 
Majesty  is  at  the  door."  And  the  lady  who  quarreled 
with  a  clerk  for  half  a  kreutzer  went  out  of  the  hall,  and 
mounted  besides  a  gentleman  who  was  driving  himself; 
one  of  those  gentlemen  to  whom  all  the  world  doff  their 
hats,  yet  who,  by  a  singular  contradiction,  are  always 
guarded  by  policemen. 

The  Massarene  courier,  who  was  always  hovering  near 
his  mistress  in  the  vain  effort  to  preserve  her  from  wrong- 
doing, took  her  aside. 

"It's  Mrs.  Cecil  Courcy,  madam,"  he  murmured. 
"  There's  nobody  so  chic  as  Mrs.  Cecil  Courcy.  She's 


8  THE  MASSARENES. 

hand  and  glove  with  all  them  royalties.  Pinching  and 
screwing — oh  yes,  that  she  do — but  then  you  see,  madam, 
she  can  do  it." 

"  You  won't  tell  your  master,  Gregson  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Massarene  in  an  agony  of  penitence. 

Gregson  winced  at  the  word  "master,"  but  he  answered 
sincerely,  "  No,  madam  ;  I  won't  tell  Mr.  Massarene.  But 
if  you  think  that  because  they're  high  they're  large, 
you're  very  much  mistaken.  Lord,  ma'am,  they'll  pocket 
the  marrons  glaces  at  the  table  d'hote  and  take  the  matches 
away  from  their  bedrooms,  but  then,  you  see,  ma'am,  them 
as  are  swagger  can  do  them  things.  Mrs.  Cecil  Courcy 
might  steal  the  spoons  if  she'd  a  mind  to  do  it !  " 

Mrs.  Massarene  gasped.  A  great  name  covering  a  mul- 
titude of  small  thefts  appalled  her  simple  mind. 

"  You  can't  mean  it,  Gregson  ?  "  she  said  with  breath- 
less amaze. 

"Indeed,  madam,  I  do,"  said  the  courier,  "and  that's 
why,  madam,  I  won't  ever  go  into  service  with  gentlefolks. 
They've  got  such  a  lot  to  keep  up,  and  so  precious  little  to 
do  it  with,  that  they're  obliged  to  pinch  and  to  screw  and 
get  three  sixpences  out  of  a  shilling,  as  I  tell  you, 
madam." 

Mrs.  Massarene  was  sad  and  silent.  It  was  painful  to 
hear  one's  own  courier  say  that  he  would  never  take  ser- 
vice with  "  gentlefolk."  One  never  likes  to  see  oneself  as 
others  see  us. 

The  poignant  horror  of  that  moment  as  she  had  seen  the 
imperial  wheels  flash  and  rotate  through  the  flying  dust 
was  still  fresh  in  her  mind,  and  should  have  prevented  her 
from  ever  trusting  to  her  own  judgment  or  forming  that 
judgment  from  mere  appearances.  She  could  still  hear 
the  echo  of  the  mocking  voice  of  that  prince  whom  Kenil- 
worth  had  described  as  "dead  broke  "  saying  to  her,  as  he 
had  said  more  than  once  in  England  :  "  Not  often  do  you 
make  a  mistake ;  ah  no,  not  often,  my  very  dear  madam, 
not  often ;  but  when  you  do  make  one — eh  lien,  vous  la 
faites  belle  !  " 

Mrs.  Massarene  sighed  heavily  as  she  sat  alone  under 
her  tree,  her  large  hands  folded  on  her  lap  ;  the  lessons  of 
society  seemed  to  her  of  an  overwhelming  difficulty  and 


TH&  MA88AEENE8.  9 

intricacy.  How  could  she  possibly  have  guessed  that  the 
great  Mrs.  Cecil  Courcy,  who  gave  tea  and  bread-and-but- 
ter to  kings  and  sang  duets  with  their  consorts,  was  a  lit- 
tle shabby,  pale-faced  being  in  a  deerstalker's  hat  and  a 
worn  gray  ulster  who  had  disputed  in  proprid  persona  at 
the  cashier's  office  the  change  of  half  a  kreutzer  on  her 
bill  for  some  iced  water? 

As  she  was  thinking  these  melancholy  thoughts  and 
meditating  on  the  isolation  of  her  greatness,  a  big  rose- 
colored  bladder  struck  her  a  sharp  blow  on  the  cheek ; 
and  at  her  involuntary  cry  of  pain  and  surprise  a  little 
child's  voice  said  pleadingly,  "  Oh !  begs  'oo  pardon — 
vewy  muss ! " 

The  rosebud  face  of  Lady  Kenilworth's  little  daughter 
was  at  her  knee,  and  its  prettiness  and  penitence  touched 
to  the  quick  her  warm  maternal  heart. 

"  My  little  dear,  'tis  nothing  at  all,"  she  said,  stooping 
to  kiss  the  child  under  its  white  lace  coalscuttle  bonnet. 
Boo  submitted  to  the  caress,  though  she  longed  to  rub  the 
place  kissed  by  the  stranger. 

"  It  didn't  hurt  'oo,  did  it  ?  "  she  asked  solicitously,  and 
then  she  added  in  a  whisper,  "Has  'oo  dot  any  sweet- 
ies?" 

For  she  saw  that  the  lady  was  kind,  and  thought  her 
pretty,  and  in  her  four-year-old  mind  decided  to  utilize 
the  situation.  As  it  chanced,  Mrs.  Massarene,  being  fond 
of  "  sweeties  "  herself,  had  some  caramels  in  a  gold  bon- 
bon-box, and  she  pressed  them,  box  and  all,  into  the  little 
hands  in  their  tiny  tan  gloves. 

Boo's  beautiful  sleepy  black  eyes  grew  wide-awake  with 
pleasure. 

"  Dat's  a  real  dold  box,"  she  said,  with  the  fine  instincts 
proper  to  one  who  will  have  her  womanhood  in  the  twen- 
tieth century.  And  slipping  it  in  her  little  bosom  she  ran 
off  with  it  to  regain  her  nurse. 

Her  mother  was  walking  past  at  the  moment  with  the 
King  of  Greece  on  one  side  of  her,  and  the  Due  d'Orleans 
on  the  other ;  wise  little  Boo  kept  aloof  with  her  prize. 
But  she  knew  not,  or  forgot,  that  her  mother's  eyes  were 
as  the  optic  organs  of  the  fiy  which  can  see  all  round  at 
once,  and  possess  twelve  thousand  facets. 


10  THE  MABSARENE8. 

Ten  minutes  later,  when  tlie  king  had  gone  to  drink  his 
glasses  of  water  and  Prince  Gamelle  had  gone  to  break- 
fast, Lady  Kenil worth,  leading  her  sulky  and  unwilling 
Boo  by  the  hand,  approached  the  tree  where  the  lone  lady 
sat.  u  You  have  been  too  kind  to  my  naughty  little  girl," 
she  said  with  her  sweetest  smile.  "  She  must  not  keep  this 
bonbonnicre  ;  the  contents  are  more  than  enough  for  a  care- 
less little  trot  who  knocks  people  about  with  her  balloon." 

Mrs.  Massarene,  agitated  almost  out  of  speech  and  sense 
at  the  sight  of  this  radiant  apparition  which  spoke  with 
such  condescension  to  her,  stammered  thanks,  excuses, 
protestations  in  an  unintelligible  hotchpot  of  confused 
phrases ;  and  let  the  gold  box  fall  neglected  to  the  ground. 

"  The  dear  pretty  baby,"  she  said  entreatingly.  "  Oh, 
pray,  ma'am,  oh,  pray,  my  lady,  do  let  her  have  it,  such  a 
trifle  as  it  is !  " 

"  No,  indeed  I  cannot,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth  firmly, 
but  still  with  her  most  winning  smile,  and  she  added  with 
that  graceful  abruptness  natural  to  her,  "  Do  tell  me,  I 
am  not  quite  sure,  but  wasn't  it  you  who  snubbed  Phyllis 
Courcy  so  delightfully  at  the  hotel  bureau  yesterday 
morning  ?  " 

Mrs.  Massarene's  pallid  face  became  purple. 

"  Oh,  my  lady,"  she  said  faintly,  "  I  shall  never  get 
over  it,  such  a  mistake  as  I  made  !  When  Mr.  Massarene 
comes  to  hear  of  it  he'll  be  ready  to  kill  me •" 

"  It  was  quite  delightful,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth  with 
decision.  "  Nobody  ever  dares  pull  her  up  for  her  cheese- 
paring ways.  We  were  all  enchanted.  She  is  a  detesta- 
ble cat,  and  if  she  hadn't  that  mezzo-soprano  voice  she 
wouldn't  be  petted  and  cossetted  at  Balmoral  and  Berlin 
k  and  Bernsdorff  as  she  is.  She  is  my  aunt  by  marriage, 
but  I  hate  her." 

"  Dear  me,  my  lady,"  murmured  Mrs.  Massarene,  doubt- 
ful if  her  ears  could  hear  aright.  "  I  was  ready  to  sink 
into  my  shoes,"  she  added,  "  when  I  saw  her  drive  away 
with  the  Emperor." 

Lady  Kenilworth  laughed,  a  genuine  laugh  which 
meant  a  great  number  of  things,  unexplained  to  her 
auditor.  Then  she  nodded  ;  a  little  pleasant  familiar  nod 
of  farewell. 


THE  MASSARENES.  11 

"  We  shall  meet  again.  We  are  at  the  same  hotel. 
Thanks  so  much  for  your  kindness  to  my  naughty  pet." 

And  with  the  enchanting  smile  she  used  when  she  wanted 
to  turn  people's  heads  she  nodded  again,  and  went  on  her 
way,  dragging  the  reluctant  Boo  away  from  the  tree  and 
the  golden  box. 

When  she  consigned  her  little  daughter  to  the  nurse, 
Boo's  big  black  eyes  looked  up  at  her  in  eloquent  re- 
proach. The  big  black  eyes  said  what  the  baby  lips  did 
not  dare  to  say :  "  I  did  what  you  told  me  ;  I  hit  the  lady 
very  cleverly  as  if  it  was  accident,  and  then  you  wouldn't 
let  me  have  the  pretty  box,  and  you  called  me  naughty !  " 

Later,  in  the  nursery,  Boo  poured  out  her  sorrows  to 
her  brother  Jack,  who  exactly  resembled  herself  with  his 
yellow  hair,  his  big  dark  eyes,  and  his  rosebud  of  a 
mouth. 

"  She  telled  me  to  hit  the  old  'ooman,  and  then  she  said 
I  was  naughty  'cos  I  did  it,  and  she  tooked  away  my  dold 
box !  " 

"  Never  mind,  Boo.  Mammy  always  lets  one  in  for  it. 
What'd  you  tell  her  of  the  box  for?  Don't  never  tell 
mammy  nothing"  said  Jack  in  the  superior  wisdom  of  the 
masculine  sex  and  ten  months  greater  age. 

Boo  sobbed  afresh. 

"I  didn't  tell  her.     She  seed  it  through  my  frock." 

Jack  kissed  her. 

"  Let's  find  old  woman,  Boo,  if  we  can  get  out  all  by 
'selves,  and  we'll  ask  her  for  the  box." 

Boo's  face  cleared. 

44  And  we'll  tell  her  mammy  telled  me  to  hit  her  ! " 

Jack's  cherub  face  grew  grave. 

"N-n-no.  We  won't  do  that,  Boo.  Mammy  s  a  bad  un 
to  split  on." 

Jack  had  once  overheard  this  said  on  the  staircase  by 
Lord  Kenilworth,  and  his  own  experiences  had  convinced 
him  of  the  truth  of  it.  "  Mammy  can  be  cruel  nasty,"  he 
added,  with  great  solemnity  of  aspect  and  many  painful 
personal  recollections. 

Mrs.  Massarene  had  remained  under  the  tree  digesting 
the  water  she  had  drunk,  arid  the  memory  of  the  blunder 
she  had  made  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Courcy.  She  ought  to 


12  THE  XA88A&ENX8. 

I  have  known  that  there  is  nothing  more  perilous  than  to 

',  judge  by  appearances,  for  this  is  a  fact  to  be  learned  in 

kitchens  as  well  as  palaces.     But  she  had  not  known  it, 

and  by  not  knowing  it  had  offended  a  person  who  went  en 

intime  to  Balmoral,  and  Berlin,  and  Bernsdorff ! 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  she  slowly  and  sorrowfully 
walked  back  through  the  gardens  of  her  hotel,  to  go  in  to 
luncheon,  two  bright  cherubic  apparitions  came  toward 
her  over  the  grass. 

Walking  demurely  hand-in-hand,  looking  the  pictures  of 
innocent  infancy,  Jack  and  Boo,  having  had  their  twelve 
o'clock  dinner,  dedicated  their  united  genius  to  the  find- 
ing and  besieging  of  the  old  fat  woman. 

"  How's  'oo  do  ? "  said  Boo  very  affably,  whilst  her 
brother,  leaving  her  the  initiative,  pulled  his  sky-blue  Tarn 
o?  Shanter  cap  off  his  golden  curls  with  his  best  possible 
manner. 

Their  victim  was  enchanted  by  their  overtures,  and 
forgot  that  she  was  hungry,  as  these  radiant  little  Gains- 
borough figures  blocked  her  path.  They  were  welcome  to 
her  as  children,  but  as  living  portions  of  the  peerage  they 
were  divinities. 

"  What's  your  name,  my  pretty  dears  ?  "  she  said,  much 
flattered  and  embarrassed.  "  You're  Lord  Kersterholme, 
aren't  you,  sir  ?  " 

"I'm  Kers'ham,  'ess.  But  I'm  Jack,"  said  the  boy 
with  the  big  black  eyes  and  the  yellow  locks,  cut  short 
over  his  forehead  and  falling  long  on  his  shoulders. 

"  And  your  dear  little  sister,  she's  Lady  Beatrix  Orme  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Massarene,  who  had  read  their  names  and  dates 
of  birth  a  score  of  times  in  her  'Burke.' 

"  She's  Boo,"  said  Jack. 

Boo  herself  stood  with  her  little  nose  and  chin  in  the 
air,  and  her  mouth  pursed  contemptuously.  She  was 
ready  to  discharge  herself  of  scathing  ironies  on  the  per- 
sonal appearance  of  the  questioner,  but  she  resisted  the 
impulse  because  to  indulge  it  might  endanger  the  restora- 
tion of  the  gold  box. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  very  fond  of  your  pretty  mamma, 
my  dears?"  said  Mrs.  Massarene,  wondering  why  they 
thus  honored  her  by  standing  in  her  path. 


TEE ,  MASS  A  EENES.  13 

Boo  shut  up  her  rosy  mouth  and  her  big  eyes  till  they 
were  three  straight  lines  of  cruel  scorn,  and  was  silent. 

Jack  hesitated. 

"  We're  very  fond  of  Harry,"  he  said,  by  way  of  com- 
promise, and  as  in  allusion  to  a  substitute. 

"Who  is  Harry?"  asked  Mr.  Massarene,  surprised. 

The  children  were  puzzled.     Who  was  Harry  ? 

They  were  used  to  seeing  him  perpetually,  to  playing 
with  him,  to  teasing  him,  to  getting  everything  they 
wanted  out  of  him ;  but,  as  to  who  he  was,  of  that  they 
had  never  thought. 

"  He's  in  the  Guards,"  said  Jack  at  last.  "  The  Guards 
that  have  the  white  tails  on  their  heads,  you  know,  and 
ride  down  Portland  Place  of  a  morning." 

"  He  belongs  to  mammy,"  said  Boo,  by  way  of  addi- 
tional identification ;  she  was  a  lovely  little  fresh  dewdrop 
of  childhood  only  just  four  years  old,  but  she  had  a 
sparkle  of  malice  and  meaning  in  her  tone  and  her  eyes, 
of  which  her  brother  was  innocent. 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  murmured  Mrs.  Massarene,  more  and 
more  embarrassed  ;  for  ought  she  knew,  it  might  be  the 
habit  for  ladies  in  the  great  world  to  have  an  officer  of 
the  Guards  attached  to  their  service. 

Jack  looked  critically  at  the  strange  lady.  "  Don't  'oo 
know  people  ?  "  he  asked ;  this  poor  old  fat  woman  seemed 
to  him  very  forlorn  and  friendless. 

"  I  don't  know  many  people  as  yet,  my  lord,"  murmured 
their  victim  humbly. 

"Is  'oo  a  cook  or  a  nurse  ?  "  said  Jack,  with  his  head  on 
one  side,  surveying  her  with  puzzled  compassion. 

"  My  dear  little  sir !  "  cried  Mrs.  Massarene,  horrified* 
"  Why,  gracious  me  !  I'm  a  lady." 

Jack  burst  out  laughing.  "  Oh,  no,  'oo  isn't,"  he  said 
decidedly.  "  Ladies  don't  say  they's  ladies." 

Boo  twitched  his  hand  to  remind  him  of  the  ultimate 
object  of  their  mission. 

Mrs.  Massarene  had  never  more  cruelly  felt  how  utterly 
she  was  "  nobody  "  at  her  first  Drawing-room,  than  she 
felt  it  now  under  the  merciless  eyes  of  these  chicks. 

Boo  pulled  Jack's  sleeve.  "She  won't  give  us  nothin' 
else  if  'oo  tease  her,"  she  whispered  in  his  rosy  ear. 


14  THE  MASSAUENES. 

Jack  shook  her  off.  "  PYaps  we're  rude,"  he  said  re* 
morsefully  to  his  victim.  "  We's  sorry  if  we've  vexed 

'00." 

"  And  does  'oo  want  the  little  box  mammy  gived  back 
to  'oo?  "  said  Boo  desperately,  perceiving  that  her  brother 
would  never  attack  this  main  question. 

Over  the  plain  broad  flat  face  of  the  poor  plebian  there 
passed  a  gleam  of  intelligence,  and  a  shadow  of  disappoint- 
ment. It  was  only  for  sake  of  the  golden  box  that  these 
little  angels  had  smilingly  blocked  her  road ! 

She  brought  out  the  bonbonnidre  at  once  from  her  pocket. 
"Pray  take  it  and  keep  it,  my  little  lady,"  she  said  to 
Boo,  who  required  no  second  bidding ;  and  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  Mrs.  Massarene  took  out  of  her  purse  a 
new  Napoleon.  u  Would  you  please,  my  lord,"  she  mur- 
mured, pushing  the  bright  coin  into  Jack's  fingers. 

Jack  colored.  He  was  tempted  to  take  the  money ;  he 
had  spent  his  last  money  two  days  before,  and  the  Napo- 
leon would  buy  a  little  cannon  for  which  his  heart  pined ; 
a  real  cannon  which  would  load  with  real  little  shells. 
But  something  indefinite  in  his  mind  shrank  from  taking 
a  stranger's  money.  He  put  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
"  Thanks,  very  much,"  he  said  resolutely,  "  but  please, 
no  ;  I'd  rather  not." 

She  pressed  it  on  him  warmly,  but  he  was  obstinate. 
"  No,  thanks,"  he  said  twice.  "  'Go's  very  kind,"  he  added 
courteously.  "  But  I  don't  know  'oo,  and  I'd  rather  not." 
And  he  adhered  to  his  refusal.  He  could  not  have  put 
his  sentiment  into  words,  but  he  had  a  temper  which  his 
sister  had  not. 

"  'Go's  very  kind,"  he  said  again,  to  soften  his  refusal. 

"  'Go's  very  kind,"  repeated  Boo  sarcastically,  with  a 
little  grin  and  a  mocking  curtsey,  "  and  Jack's  a  great  big 
goose.  Tata !  " 

She  pulled  her  brother  away,  being  afraid  of  the  arrival 
of  governess,  nurse,  or  somebody  who  might  yet  again 
snatch  the  gold  box  away  from  her. 

"  Why  didn't  'oo  take  the  money,  Jack  ?  "  she  said,  as 
they  ran  hand-in-hand  down  the  path. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Jack  truthfully.  "  Somethin'  in- 
side me  told  me  not." 


THE,  MASSARENES.  15 

Their  forsaken  admirer  looked  after  them  wistful!}-. 
"  Fine  feathers  don't  make  a  fine  bird  o'  me,"  she  thought 
sorrowfully.  "  Even  those  babies  see  I  ain't  a  lady.  I 
always  told  William  as  how  it  wouldn't  be  no  use.  I 
daresay  in  time  they'll  come  to  us  for  sake  of  what  they'll 
get,  but  they  won't  never  think  us  aught  except  the  rai- 
sins of  the  biler." 

Lord  Kenilworth  had  been  looking  idly  out  of  a  win- 
dow of  the  hotel  across  the  evergreens  after  his  breakfast 
of  brandy  and  seltzer  and  had  seen  the  little  scene  in  the 
garden  and  chuckled  as  he  saw. 

"  Shrewd  little  beggars,  gettin'  things  out  of  the  fat  old 
woman,"  he  thought  with  approval.  "  How  like  they 
look  to  their  mother ;  and  what  a  blessing  it  is  there's 
never  any  doubts  as  to  the  maternity  of  anybody !  " 

He,  although  not  a  student  of  *  Burke  '  like  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene,  had  opened  that  majestic  volume  once  on  a  rainy 
day  in  the  library  of  a  country  house,  and  had  looked  at 
his  own  family  record  in  it,  and  had  seen,  underneath  his 
own  title  and  his  father's,  the  names  of  four  little  chil- 
dren : — 

Sons: 

(1)  John  Cecil  Victor,  Lord  Kersterholme. 

(2)  Gerald  George. 

(3)  Francis  Lionel  Desmond  Edward. 

Daughter : 

Beatrix  Cicely. 

"  Dear  little  duckies  ! "  he  had  murmured,  biting  a 
cigarette.  "  Sweet  little  babes  !  Precious  little  poppets  I 
Damn  'em  the  whole  blooming  lot ! " 

But  he  had  been  quite  alone  when  he  had  said  this:  for 
a  man  who  drank  so  much  as  he  did  he  was  always  re- 
markably discreet.  What  he  drank  did  not  make  him 
garrulous  ;  it  made  him  suspicious  and  mute.  No  one  had 
ever  known  him  allow  a  word  to  escape  his  lips  which  he 
would,  being  sober,  have  regretted  to  have  said.  How 
many  abstemious  persons  amongst  us  can  boast  as  much  ? 


16  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IT  was  four  o'clock  on  a  misty  and  dark  afternoon  of 
the  month  of  March  in  London. 

The  reception  rooms  of  a  fine  house  facing  Grosvenor 
Gate  were  all  lighted  by  the  last  modern  perfection  of 
rose-shaded  electricity.  They  were  rooms  of  unusually 
admirable  proportions  and  size  for  the  city  in  which  they 
were  situated,  and  were  decorated  and  filled  with  all  that 
modern  resources,  both  in  art  and  in  wealth,  can  obtain. 

Harrenden  House,  as  it  was  called,  had  been  designed 
for  a  rich  and  eccentric  duke  of  that  name,  and  occupied 
by  him  for  a  few  years,  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  had 
tired  of  it,  had  carried  all  its  treasures  elsewhere,  and 
put  it  up  for  sale ;  it  had  remained  unsold  and  unlet  for  a 
very  long  period,  the  price  asked  being  too  large  even  for 
millionaires.  At  last,  in  the  autumn  of  the  previous  year, 
it  had  been  taken  by  a  person  who  was  much  more  than  a 
millionaire,  though  he  had  been  born  in  a  workhouse  and 
had  begun  life  as  a  cow-boy. 

The  great  mansion  had  nothing  whatever  of  the 
parvenu  about  it  except  its  new  owner.  Its  interior  had 
been  arranged  in  perfect  taste  by  an  unerring  master's 
hand.  The  square  hall  had  ancient  Italian  tapestries, 
Italian  marbles,  Italian  mosaics,  all  of  genuine  age  and 
extreme  beauty,  whilst  from  its  domed  cupola  a  mellowed 
light  streamed  down  through  pain  ted  glass  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  taken  from  the  private  chapel  of  a  Flemish 
castle. 

The  two-winged  staircase,  broad  and  massive,  had  balus- 
trades of  oak  which  had  once  been  the  choir  railings  of  a 
cathedral  in  Karinthia,  the  silver  lamps  which  hung  above 
these  stairs  had  once  illumined  religious  services  in  the 
Kremlin,  and  above  the  central  balustrade  leaned,  lovely 
as  adolescence,  a  nude  youth  with  a  hawk  on  his  wrist — 
the  work  of  Clodion. 

The  rest  of  the  mansion  was  in  the  same  proportions 


THE  MASSARENES.  17 

and  perfection.  No  false  note  jarred  on  its  harmonies, 
no  doubtful  thing  intruded  a  coarse  or  common  chord. 
The  household  were  not  pushed  away  into  dark  cell-like 
corners,  but  had  comfortable  and  airy  sleeping-chambers. 
It  was  a  palace  fit  for  a  Queen  of  Loves ;  it  was  a  home 
made  for  a  young  Csesar  in  the  first  flush  of  his  dreams  of 
Cleopatra.  And  it  belonged  actually  to  William  Massa- 
rene,  late  of  Kerosene  City,  North  Dakota,  U.  S.  A., 
miner,  miller,  meat  salesman,  cattle  exporter,  railway  con- 
tractor, owner  of  gambling  saloons,  and  opium  dens  for 
the  heathen  Chinee,  and  one  of  the  richest  and  hardiest- 
headed  men  in  either  hemisphere. 

Nothing  was  wanting  which  money  could  buy — tapes- 
tries, ivories,  marbles,  bronzes,  porcelains,  potteries, 
orchids,  palms,  roses,  silks,  satins,  and  velvets,  were  all 
there  in  profusion.  Powdered  lackeys  lolled  in  the  ante- 
room, dignified  men  in  black  stole  noiselessly  over  carpets 
soft  and  elastic  as  moss ;  in  the  tea-room  the  china  was 
Sevres  of  1770,  and  the  water  boiled  in  what  had  once 
been  a  gold  water-vase  of  Leo  X. ;  in  the  delicious  little 
oval  boudoir  the  walls  were  entirely  covered  with  old  Saxe 
plates,  and  Saxe  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  made  groups 
in  all  the  corners,  while  a  Watteau  formed  the  ceiling ; 
and  yet,  amidst  these  gay  and  smiling  porcelain  people  of 
Meissen,  who  were  a  century  and  a  half  old,  and  yet  kept 
the  roses  on  their  cheeks  and  the  laugh  on  their  lips, 
Margaret  Massarene,  the  mistress  of  it  all,  sat  in  solitary 
state  and  melancholy  meditation ;  a  heavy  hopelessness 
staring  in  her  pale  grey  eyes,  a  dreary  dejection  expressed 
in  the  loose  clasp  of  her  fat  hands  folded  on  her  knee,  the 
fingers  now  and  then  beating  a  nervous  tattoo.  What  use 
was  it  to  have  the  most  beautiful  dwelling-house  in  all 
London  if  no  one  ever  beheld  its  beauties  from  one  week's 
end  to  another  ?  What  use  was  it  to  have  a  regiment  of 
polished  and  disdainful  servants  if  there  were  no  visitors 
of  rank  for  them  to  receive  ? 

Many  things  are  hard  in  this  world ;  but  nothing  is 
harder  than  to  be  ready  to  prostrate  yourself,  and  be  for- 
bidden to  do  it ;  to  be  ready  to  eat  the  bitter  pastry  which 
is  called  humble  pie,  and  yet  find  no  table  at  which  so 
much  even  as  this  will  be  offered  you.  The  great  world 

2 


18  THE  MASSARENES. 

did  not  affront  them  ;  it  did  worse,  it  did  not  seem  to  know 
they  existed. 

"  Take  a  big  town  house  ;  buy  a  big  country  place  ;  ask 
people  ;  the  rest  will  all  follow  of  itself,"  had  said  their 
counsellor  and  confidant  at  the  baths  of  Homburg.  They 
had  bought  the  town  house,  and  the  country  place,  but  as 
yet  they  had  found  no  people  to  invite  to  either  of  them ; 
and  not  a  soul  had  as  }^et  called  at  the  magnificent  man- 
sion by  Gloucester  Gate,  although  for  fifteen  days  and 
more  its  porter  had  sat  behind  open  gates  ;  gates  of  bronze 
and  gold  with  the  Massarene  arms,  which  the  Herald's 
College  had  lately  furnished,  emblazoned  above  on  their 
scroll-work  awaiting  the  coronet  which  a  grateful  nation 
and  a  benign  Sovereign  would,  no  doubt,  ere  many  years 
should  have  passed,  add  to  them. 

People  of  course  there  were  by  hundreds  and  thousands, 
who  would  have  been  only  too  glad  to  be  bidden  to  their 
doors ;  but  they  were  people  of  that  common  clay  with 
which  the  Massarenes  had  finished  for  ever  and  aye. 

There  were  many  families,  rich,  if  not  as  rich  as  them- 
selves, and  living  in  splendor  on  Clapham  Common,  near 
Epping  Forest,  or  out  by  Sy  den  ham  and  Dulwich,  who 
would  have  willingly  been  intimate  with  Mrs.  Massarene 
as  their  husbands  were  with  hers  in  the  city.  She  would 
have  been  content  with  their  fine  houses,  their  good  din- 
ners, their  solid  wealth,  their  cordial  company.  She  would 
have  been  much  more  at  ease  in  their  suburban  villas 
amidst  their  homelier  comforts,  hearing  and  sharing  their 
candid  boast  fulness  of  their  rise  in  life.  But  these  were 
not  the  acquaintances  which  her  husband  desired.  He 
did  not  want  commerce,  however  enriched ;  he  wanted 
the  great  world,  or  what  now  represents  it,  the  smart 
world  ;  and  he  intended  to  have  that  or  none. 

And  Lady  Kenilworth,  their  Homburg  friend,  had 
written  a  tiny  three-cornered  note  ten  days  before,  with  a 
mouse  in  silver  on  its  paper,  which  said  :  "  I  am  in  town 
and  am  coming  to  see  you.  Jack  and  Boo  send  love," 
and  on  this  familiar  epistle  they  had  built  up  an  Eiffel 
Tower  of  prodigious  hope  and  expectation.  But  ten  days 
and  more  had  passed  and  their  correspondent  had  not  yet 
fulfilled  her  promise. 


THE  PTASSARENES.  19 

Therefore,  amidst  all  the  beauty  and  splendor  of  it,  the 
mistress  of  the  house  sat,  pale,  sullen,  despondent,  melan- 
choly. She  had  sat  thus  for  fifteen  days — ever  since 
Parliament  had  met — and  it  was  all  in  vain,  in  vain.  The 
gold  urn  bubbled,  the  shepherds  smiled,  the  orchids 
bloomed,  the  men  in  black  and  the  men  in  powder  waited 
in  vain,  and  the  splendid  and  spacious  mansion  warmed 
itself,  lighted  itself,  perfumed  itself  in  vain.  Nobody 
came. 

She  had  dropped  all  her  old  friends  and  the  new  ones 
were  faithless  and  few. 

She  had  been  forced  by  her  lord  and  master  to  cease 
her  acquaintance  with  the  wives  of  aldermen  and  city 
magnates  and  magistrates  ;  good-natured  wealthy  women, 
who  had  been  willing  to  make  her  one  of  themselves  ;  and 
the  desired  successors,  the  women  of  the  world,  were  only 
conspicuous  by  their  absence. 

She  was  dressed  admirably  by  a  great  authority  on 
clothes ;  but  the  dull  Venetian  red,  embroidered  with  gold 
thread  and  slashed  with  tawny  color,  was  suited  to  a 
Vittoria  Accrombona,  to  a  Lucrezia  Borgia,  and  did  not 
suit  at  all  the  large  loose  form  and  the  pallid  insignificant 
features  of  their  present  wearer. 

When  the  head  cutter  of  the  great  Paris  house  which 
had  turned  out  that  magnificent  gown  had  ventured  to 
suggest  to  its  chief  that  such  attire  was  thrown  away  on 
such  a  face  and  figure  as  these,  that  Oracle  had  answered 
with  withering  contempt,  "  Rien  ne  va  aux  gens  de  leur 
esp^ce,  excepte  leur  tablier  tfouvrtire.  Et  le  tablier  on  ne 
veut  plus  porter  !  " 

His  scorn  was  unutterable  for  all  "gens  de  leur  espdce," 
but  he  did  what  he  could  for  them ;  he  let  them  have  ex- 
quisite attire  and  sent  them  very  long  bills.  It  was  not 
his  fault  if  they  never  knew  how  to  wear  their  clothes ; 
he  could  not  teach  them  that  secret,  which  only  comes  by 
the  magic  of  nature  and  breeding.  The  present  wearer 
of  his  beautiful  Venetian  red  and  gold  gown  was  laced  in 
until  she  could  scarcely  breathe ;  her  fat  hands  were  cov- 
ered with  beautiful  rings  :  her  grey  hair  had  been  washed 
with  gold-colored  dye ;  her  broad  big  feet,  which  had  stood 
so  many  years  before  cooking  stoves  and  washtubs,  were 


20  THE  MASSARENES. 

encased  in  Venetian  red  hose  of  silk  and  black  satin  shoes 
with  gold  buckles;  her  maid  had  assured  her  that  she 
looked  like  a  picture  but  she  felt  like  a  guy,  and  was  made 
nervous  by  the  Medusa-like  gaze  of  the  men  in  black  who 
occasionally  flitted  across  her  boudoir  to  attend  to  a  lamp, 
contract  the  valve  of  the  calorifere,  or  lay  the  afternoon 
papers  cut  and  aired  by  her  chair. 

"  If  only  they  wouldn't  look  at  me  so !  "  she  thought, 
piteously.  What  must  they  think  of  her,  sitting  alone 
like  this,  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  when  the  dreary 
two  hours'  drive  in  the  Park  was  over,  behind  the  high- 
stepping  horses,  which  were  the  envy  of  all  beholders,  but 
to  their  owners  seemed  strange,  terrible  and  dangerous 
creatures. 

London  was  full,  not  with  the  suffocating  fullness  indeed 
of  July,  but  with  the  comparative  animation  which  comes 
into  the  street  with  the  meeting  of  Parliament. 

But  not  a  soul  had  passed  those  gates  as  yet,  at  least 
not  one  as  human  souls  had  of  late  become  classified  in  the 
estimation  of  the  dwellers  within  them. 

The  beautiful  rooms  seemed  to  yawn  like  persons  whose 
mind  and  whose  time  are  vacant.  The  men  in  black  and 
the  men  in  powder  yawned  also,  and  bore  upon  their  faces 
the  visible  expression  of  that  depression  and  discontent 
which  were  in  their  bosoms  at  the  sense,  ever  increasing 
in  them,  that  every  additional  day  in  the  house  of  people 
whom  nobody  knew,  robbed  them  of  caste,  injured  their 
prestige,  and  ruined  their  future. 

The  mistress  of  the  palace  only  did  not  yawn  because 
she  was  too  agitated,  too  nervous  and  disappointed  and 
unhappy  to  be  capable  of  such  a  minor  suffering  a  ennui ; 
she  was  not  dull  because  she  was  strung  up  to  a  high  state 
of  anxious  expectation,  gradually  subsiding,  as  day  after 
day  went  on,  to  a  complete  despair. 

They  had  done  all  that  could  be  done  in  the  way  of 
getting  into  society;  they  had  neglected  no  means, 
shunned  no  humiliation,  spared  no  expense,  refused  no 
subscription,  avoided  no  insult  which  could  possibly, 
directly  or  indirectly,  have  helped  them  to  enter  its 
charmed  circle,  and  yet  nothing  had  succeeded.  Nobody 
came,  nobody  at  least  out  of  that  mystic  and  magic  sphere 


THE,  MASSARENES.  21 

into  which  they  pined  and  slaved  to  force  or  to  insinuate 
themselves ;  not  one  of  those,  the  dust  of  whose  feet  they 
were  ready  to  kiss,  would  come  up  the  staircase  under  the 
smiling  gaze  of  Clodion's  young  falconer. 

But  on  this  second  day  of  the  month  of  March,  when 
the  clocks  showed  five  of  the  afternoon,  there  was  a  slight 
movement  perceptible  in  the  rooms  of  which  the  suite 
was  visible  from  the  door  of  the  boudoir.  The  groom  of 
the  chambers,  a  slender,  solemn,  erect  personage,  by  name 
Winter,  came  forward  with  a  shade  of  genuine  respect  for 
the  first  time  shown  in  his  expression  and  demeanor. 

"  Lady  Kenilworth  asks  if  you  receive,  madam  ?  " 

"Why,  lord,  man!  ain't  I  in  o'  purpose?"  said  his  mis- 
tress, in  her  agitation  and  surprise  reverting  to  her  natural 
vernacular;  whilst  she  rose  in  vast  excitement  and  un- 
speakable trepidation,  and  tumbled  against  a  stool  in  her 
nervousness. 

"I  was  sure  that  I  should  find  you  at  home,  so  I  fol- 
lowed on  the  heels  of  your  man,"  said  a  sweet,  silvery, 
impertinent  voice,  as  the  fair  young  mother  of  Jack  and 
Boo  entered  the  boudoir,  looking  at  everything  about  her 
in  a  bird-like  way,  and  with  an  eye-glass  which  she  did  not 
vant  lifted  to  the  bridge  of  her  small  and  delicate  nose. 

44  So  kind — so  kind—so  honored,"  murmured  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene  with  bewilderment  and  enthusiasm,  her  pale,  flaccid 
cheeks  warm  with  pleasure,  and  her  voice  tremulous  with 
timidity. 

44  Not  at  all,"  murmured  Lady  Kenilworth  absently  and 
vaguely,  occupied  with  her  inspection  of  the  objects  round 
her.  She  seated  herself  on  a  low  chair,  and  let  her  glance 
wander  over  the  walls,  the  ceiling,  the  Meissen  china,  the 
Watteau  ceiling,  and  her  hostess's  gown. 

"  How's  your  dear  little  children,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Massarene  humbly. 

44  Oh,  they're  all  right,  thanks,"  said  their  mother  care- 
lessly, her  head  thrown  back  as  she  gazed  up  at  the  Wat- 
teau. "  It  seems  very  well  done,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Who 
did  it  for  you  ?  The  Bond  Street  people  ?  " 

44 Did  what?"  said  her  hostess  falteringly,  drawing  in 
her  breath  with  a  sudden  little  gasp  to  prevent  herself 
from  saying  "  my  lady." 


22  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  The  whole  thing,"  explained  her  guest,  pointing  with 
the  handle  of  her  eye  glass  toward  the  vista  of  the  rooms. 

"  The — the — house  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Massarene  hesitatingly, 
still  not  understanding.  "We  bought  it— that  is,  Mr. 
Massarene  bought  it — and  Prince  Kristof  of  Karstein  was 
so  good  as  to  see  to  the  decorations  and  the  furniture. 
The  duke  had  left  a-many  fixtures." 

"Prin  and  Kris?"  repeated  Lady  Kenil worth,  hearing 
imperfectly  through  indifference  to  the  subject  and  atten- 
tion to  the  old  Saxe  around  her.  "  I  never  heard  of  them. 
Are  they  a  London  firm  ?  " 

"  Prince  Kristof  of  Karstein,"  repeated  Mrs.  Massarene, 
distressed  to  find  the  name  misunderstood.  "  He  is  a  great 
friend  of  ours.  I  think  your  ladyship  saw  him  with  us  in 
Paris  last  autumn." 

Lady  Kenilworth  opened  wide  her  pretty,  innocent,  im- 
pertinent, forget-me-not  colored  eyes. 

"  What,  old  Khris  ?  Khris  Kar  ?  Did  he  do  it  all  for 
you?  Oh,  I  must  run  about  and  look  at  it  all,  if  he  did 
it  I "  she  said,  as  she  jumped  from  her  seat,  and,  without 
any  premiss  or  permission,  began  a  tour  of  the  rooms, 
sweeping  swiftly  from  one  thing  to  another,  lingering 
momentarily  here  and  there,  agile  and  restless  as  a 
squirrel,  yet  soft  in  movement  as  a  swan.  She  did  run 
about,  flitting  from  one  room  to  another,  studying,  ap- 
praising, censuring,  admiring,  all  in  a  rapid  and  cursory 
way,  but  with  that  familiarity  with  what  she  saw,  and  that 
accurate  eye  for  what  was  good  in  it,  which  the  mistress 
of  all  these  excellent  and  beautiful  things  would  live  to 
the  end  of  her  years  without  acquiring. 

She  put  up  her  e}re  glass  at  the  pictures,  fingered  the 
tapestries,  turned  the  porcelains  upside  down  to  see  their 
marks,  flitted  from  one  thing  to  another,  knew  every  orchid 
and  oclontoglossum  by  its  seven-leagued  name,  and  only 
looked  disapproval  before  a  Mantegna  exceedingly  archaic 
and  black,  and  a  Pietro  di  Cortona  ceiling  which  seemed 
to  her  florid  and  doubtful. 

She  went  from  reception-rooms  to  library,  dining- 
room,  conservatories,  with  drawing-rooms,  morning-rooms, 
studies,  bed-chambers,  galleries,  bath-rooms,  as  swift  as  a 
swallow  and  as  keen  of  glance  as  a  felcori,  touching  a 


THE  NASSAEENES.  23 

stuff,  eyeing  a  bit  of  china,  taking  up  a  bibelot,  with  just 
the  same  pretty  pecking  action  as  a  chaffinch  has  in  an 
orchard,  or  a  pigeon  in  a  bean-field.  Everything  was 
really  admirable  and  genuine.  All  the  while  she  paid  not 
the  slightest  attention  to  the  owner  of  the  house,  who  fol- 
lowed her  anxiously  and  humbly,  not  daring  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion, and  panting  in  her  tight  corset  at  the  speed  of  her 
going,  but  basking  in  the  sense  of  her  visitor's  rank  as  a 
cat  basks  in  the  light  and  warmth  of  a  coal  fire  and  a  fur- 
lined  basket. 

Not  a  syllable  did  Lady  Kenilworth  deign  to  cast  to  her 
in  her  breathless  scamper  through  the  house.  She  had 
some  solid  knowledge  of  value  in  matters  of  art,  and  she 
begrudged  these  delicious  things  to  the  woman  with  the 
face  like  a  large  unbaked  loaf  and  the  fat  big  hands,  as 
her  four-year-old  Boo  had  begrudged  the  gold  box. 

"Really  they  say  there  is  a  Providence  above  us,  but  I 
can't  think  there  is,  when  I  am  pestered  to  death  by  bills, 
and  this  creature  owns  Harrenden  House  ; "  she  thought, 
with  those  doubts  as  to  the  existence  of  a  deity  which 
always  assail  people  when  deity  is,  as  it  were,  in  the  betting 
against  them.  She  had  read  an  article  that  morning  by 
Jules  Simon,  in  which  he  argued  that  if  the  anarchists 
could  be  only  persuaded  to  believe  in  a  future  life  they 
would  turn  their  bombs  into  bottles  of  kid  reviver  and 
cheerfully  black  the  boots  of  the  bourgeoisie.  But  she 
felt  herself  that  there  was  something  utterly  wrong  in  a 
scheme  of  creation  which  could  bestow  Harrenden  House 
on  a  Margaret  Massarene,  and  in  a  Divine  Judge  who 
could  look  on  at  such  discrepancies  of  property  without 
disapproval. 

She  scarcely  said  a  syllable  in  her  breathless  progress 
over  the  building ;  although  the  unhappy  mistress  of  Har- 
renden House  pined  in  trembling  for  her  verdict,  as  a  poor 
captain  of  a  company  longs  for  a  word  from  some  great 
general  inspecting  his  quarters.  But  when  she  had  fin- 
ished her  tour  of  inspection,  and  consented  to  take  a  cup 
of  tea  and  a  caviare  biscuit  in  the  tea-room  where  the  Leo 
the  Tenth  urn  was  purring,  and  Mr.  Winter  and  two  of 
his  subordinates  were  looking  on  in  benign  condescension, 
she  said  brusquely : 


24  THE  MASSARENE8. 

"  EJi  lien,  il  ne  vous  a  pas  volL" 

Mrs.  Massarene  had  not  the  most  remote  idea  of  what 
she  meant,  but  smiled  vaguely,  and  anxiously,  hoping  the 
phrase  meant  praise. 

"  He's  given  you  the  value  of  your  money,"  Lady  Kenil- 
worth  explained.  "  It's  the  finest  house  in  London,  and 
nearly  everything  in  it  is  good.  The  Mantegna  is  rub- 
bish, as  I  told  you,  and  if  I  had  been  asked  I  shouldn't 
have  put  up  that  Pietro  di  Cortoria.  What  did  Khris 
make  you  pay  for  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,  ma'am,"  replied  the  mistress 
of  the  Mantegna  meekly.  "  William — Mr.  Massarene — 
never  tells  me  the  figure  of  anything." 

"  The  Cortona  was  painted  last  year  in  the  Avenue  de 
Villiers,  I  suspect,"  continued  Lady  Kenilworth.  "But 
all  the  rest,  or  nearly  all,  is  admirable." 

"It's  a  very  grand  house,"  replied  its  mistress  meekly; 
"but  it's  mighty  lonesome-like  to  be  in  it,  with  no  com- 
pany. If  all  the  great  folks  you  promised,  my  lady " 

"  I  never  promised,  I  never  do  promise,"  said  her  visitor 
sharply.  "  I  can't  take  people  by  their  petticoats  and 
coat-tails  and  drag  them  up  your  stairs.  You  must  get 
yourself  known  for  something;  then  they'll  come.  What? 
Oh,  I  have  no  idea.  Something.  A  cook ;  or  a  wine  ;  or 
a  surprise.  People  like  surprises  under  their  dinner  nap- 
kins. Or  a  speciality,  any  speciality.  I  knew  a  person 
who  entirely  got  into  society  by  white  hares;  civet  de 
Ittvre,  you  know  ;  but  white,  Siberian." 

Mrs.  Massarene  gasped.  She  had  a  feeling  then  she 
was  being  talked  to  in  Sanscrit  or  Welsh  and  expected  to 
understand  it.  Why  white  hares  should  be  better  than 
brown  hares  she  could  not  imagine.  Nobody  ate  the  fur. 

"  But  you  was  so  good  as  to  say  when  we  were  in 
Paris,  ma'am " 

"Never  remind  me  of  anything  I  said.  I  can't  endure 
it !  I  believe  you  want  to  get  in  the  swim,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Please,  I  don't  quite  understand,  ma'am." 

Her  visitor  was  silently  finishing  nibbling  at  a  caviare 
biscuit  and  reflecting  what  a  goose  she  had  been  to  go  to 
Egypt  instead  of  utilizing  this  Massarene  vein.  She  must 
certainly,  she  thought,  do  all  she  could  for  these  people. 


TEE  ^TASSARENES.  25 

"You're  Catholic,  aren't  you?"  she  said  abruptly. 

The  horror  of  an  Ulster  woman  spread  itself  over  the 
flaccid  and  pallid  clay  in  which  the  features  of  her  hostess 
were  moulded. 

"  Oh  no,  my  lady,  we  were  never  Romans,"  she  said,  so 
aghast  that  she  was  carried  out  of  herself  into  the  phrase- 
ology of  her  earlier  years.  "  We  were  never  Romans. 
How  could  you  think  it  of  us?  " 

"It  would  be  better  for  you  if  you  were,"  said  Lady 
Kenilworth  unfeelingly  and  irreverently.  "Catholics  are 
chic;  and  then  all  the  great  Catholic  families  push  a  con- 
vert unanimously.  They'd  get  a  sweep  to  all  the  best 
houses  if  he  only  went  often  enough  to  the  Oratory." 

"  We've  always  been  loyal  people,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Massarene  piteously ;  "  always  Orange  as  Orange  could 
be." 

"Loyalty's  nothing,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth,  contemp- 
tuously eyeing  the  beautiful  gold  urn  with  the  envious 
appreciation  of  a  dealer's  glance.  "Loyalty  don't  'take 
the  cake/  Nobodjr  is  afraid  of  it.  It's  all  fear  now  that 
we  go  by " 

"And  gain,"  she  was  about  to  add  but  checked  the 
words  unuttered. 

"I  wish  you  were  Catholic,"  she  said  instead.  "It 
would  make  everything  so  much  smoother  for  you.  I 
suppose  }^ou  couldn't  change  ?  They'd  make  it  very  easy 
for  you." 

Margaret  Massarene  gasped.  Life  had  unfolded  many 
possibilities  to  her  of  which  she  had  never  dreamed;  but 
never  such  a  possibility  as  this. 

"Couldn't  you?  "said  her  guest  sharply.  "After  all, 
it's  nothing  to  do.  The  Archbishop  would  see  to  it  all 
for  you.  They  make  it  very  easy  where  there  is  plenty 
of  money." 

"I  don't  think  I  could,  my  lady;  it  would  be  eternal 
punishment  for  me  in  the  world  to  come,"  said  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene faintly,  whilst  her  groom  of  the  chambers  restrained 
a  violent  inclination  to  box  her  on  the  ears  for  the  vul- 
garity of  her  two  last  words. 

He  had  been  long  trained  in  the  necessary  art  of  banish- 
ing from  his  countenance  every  ray  of  expression,  every 


26  THE  MASSARENES. 

shadow  of  indication  that  he  overheard  what  was  said 
around  him,  but  nature  for  once  prevailed  over  training ; 
deep  and  unutterable  disgust  was  spoken  on  his  bland  yet 
austere  features.  Eternal  punishment!  did  the  creature 
think  that  Harrenden  House  was  a  Methody  chapel? 

As  for  Lady  Kenilworth,  she  went  into  a  long  and  joy- 
ous peal  of  laughter ;  laughed  till  the  tears  brimmed  over 
in  her  pretty  ingenuous  turquoise-colored  eyes. 

"  Oh,  my  good  woman,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  could 
speak,  good-humoredly  and  contemptuously,  "you  don't 
mean  to  say  that  you  believe  in  eternal  punishment? 
What  is  the  use  of  getting  old  Khris  to  furnish  for  you 
and  ask  me  to  show  you  the  way  about,  if  3rou  weigh  your- 
self down  with  such  an  old-fashioned  funny  packful  of 
antiquated  ideas  as  that?  You  must  not  say  such  things 
really ;  you  will  never  get  on  amongst  us  if  you  do." 

The  countenance  of  Margaret  Massarene  grew  piteous 
to  behold ;  she  was  a  feeble  woman,  but  obstinate ;  she 
was  ready  to  sell  her  soul  to  "get  on,"  but  the  ghastly 
terrors  inculcated  to  her  in  her  childhood  were  too  strongly 
embedded  in  her  timid  and  apprehensive  nature  to  leave 
her  a  free  agent. 

"  Anything  else,  ma'am — anything  else,"  she  murmured 
wretchedly.  "  But  not  Romanism,  not  Papistry.  You 
don't  know  what  it  means  to  me,  you  don't  indeed." 

Lady  Kenilworth  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  got  up 
from  the  tea-table. 

"I  always  said,"  she  observed  slightingly,  "that  the 
Orange  people  were  the  real  difficulty  in  Ireland.  There 
would  never  have  been  any  trouble  without  them." 

"  But  you  are  not  a  Papist  }Tourself,  my  lady?"  asked 
Mrs.  Massarene  with  trembling  accents. 

"Oh,  I?  no,"  said  the  pretty  young  woman  with  the 
same  contemptuous  and  indifferent  tone.  "We  can't 
change.  We  must  stick  to  the  mast — fall  with  the  colors 
— die  in  the  breach — all  that  kind  of  thing.  We  can't 
turn  and  tvrist  about.  But  you  new  people  can,  and  }rou 
are  geese  if  you  don't.  You  want  to  get  in  the  swim. 
Well,  if  you're  wise  you'll  take  the  first  swimming-belt 
that  you  can  get.  But  do  just  as  you  like,  it  does  not 


THE  MASSARERES.  2? 

matter  to  me.  I  am  afraid  I  must  go  now,  I  have  half  a 
hundred  things  to  do." 

She  glanced  at  the  watch  in  her  bracelet  and  drew  up 
her  feather  boa  to  her  throat.  Tears  rose  to  the  pale  gray 
eyes  of  her  hostess. 

u  Pray  don't  be  offended  with  me,  my  lady,"  she  said 
timidly.  "I  hoped,  I  thought,  perhaps  you'd  be  so  very 
kind  and  condescending  as  to  tell  me  what  to  do ;  things 
bewilder  me,  and  nobody  comes.  Couldn't  you  spare  me 
a  minute  more  in  the  boudoir  yonder?  where  these  men 
won't  hear  us,"  she  added  in  a  whisper. 

She  could  not  emulate  her  guest's  patrician  indifference 
to  the  presence  of  the  men  in  black ;  it  seemed  to  her 
quite  frightful  to  discuss  religious  and  social  matters  be- 
neath the  stony  glare  of  Mr.  Winter  and  his  colleagues. 
But  Lady  Kenilworth  could  not  share  or  indulge  such 
sentiments,  nor  would  she  consent  to  take  any  such  pre- 
cautions. 

She  seated  herself  where  she  had  been  before  by  the  tea- 
table,  her  eyes  always  fascinated  by  the  Leo  the  Tenth 
urn.  She  took  a  bonbon  and  nibbled  it  prettily,  as  a 
squirrel  may  nibble  a  filbert. 

" Tell  me  what  you  want,"  she  said  bluntly;  she  was 
often  blunt,  but  she  was  always  graceful. 

Margaret  Massarene  glanced  uneasily  at  Winter  and  his 
subordinates,  and  wished  that  she  could  have  dared  to 
order  them  out  of  earshot,  as  she  would  have  done  with  a 
red-armed  and  red-haired  maid-of-all-work  who  had  marked 
her  first  stage  on  the  steep  slopes  of  "gentility." 

"You  told  us  at  Homburg,  my  lady "she  began 

timidly. 

"  Don't  say  '  my  lady,'  whatever  you  do." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my — yes,  ma'am — no  ma'am — I  beg 
pardon — you  were  so  good  as  to  tell  William  and  me  at 
the  baths  that  you  would  help  us  to  get  on  in  London  if 
we  took  a  big  house  and  bought  that  place  in  Woldshire. 
We've  done  both  them  things,  but  we  don't  get  on ;  no- 
body comes  nigh  us  here  nor  there." 

She  heaved  a  heart-broken  sigh  which  lifted  and  de- 
pressed the  gold  embroideries  on  her  ample  bosom. 

Lady  Kenilworth  smiled  unsympathetically. 


28  THE  MASSABENE& 

"What  can  you  expect,  my  good  woman? "she  mur- 
mured. "  People  don't  call  on  people  whom  they  don't 
know;  and  you  don't  know  anybody  except  my  husband 
and  old  Khris  and  myself." 

It  was  only  too  true.     Mrs.  Massarene  sighed. 

"But  I  thought  as  how  your  la — ,  as  how  you  would  be 
so  very,  very  good  as  to " 

"I  am  not  a  bear-leader,"  said  Lady  Kenil worth  with 
hauteur.  Mrs.  Massarene  was  as  helpless  and  as  flurried 
as  a  fish  landed  on  a  grassy  bank  with  a  barbed  hook 
through  its  gills.  There  was  a  long  and  to  her  a  torturing 
silence.  The  water  hissed  gently,  like  a  purring  cat,  in 
the  vase  of  Leo  the  Tenth,  and  Mouse  Kenilworth  looked 
at  it  as  a  woman  of  Egypt  may  have  gazed  at  a  statue  of 
Pascht. 

It  seemed  a  visible  symbol  of  the  immense  wealth  of 
these  Massarene  people,  of  all  the  advantages  which  she 
herself  might  derive  therefrom,  of  the  unwisdom  of  allow- 
ing their  tutelage  to  lapse  into  other  hands  than  theirs. 
If  she  did  not  launch  them  on  the  tide  of  fashion  others 
would  do  so,  and  others  would  gain  by  it  all  that  she 
would  lose  by  not  doing  it.  She  was  a  woman  well  born 
and  well  bred,  and  proud  by  temperament  and  by  habit, 
and  the  part  she  was  moved  to  play  was  disagreeable  to 
her,  even  odious.  But  it  was  yet  one  which  in  a  way 
allured  her,  which  drew  her  by  her  necessities  against  her 
will ;  and  the  golden  water- vase  seemed  to  say  to  her  with 
the  voice  of  a  deity,  "  Gold  is  the  only  power  left  in  life." 
She  herself  commanded  all  other  charms  and  sorceries; 
but  she  did  not  command  that. 

She  was  silent  some  moments  whilst  the  pale  eyes  of  her 
hostess  watched  her  piteously  and  pleadingly. 

She  felt  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  but  she  did  not 
know  what  it  was  nor  how  to  rectify  it. 

"I  beg  pardon,  ma'am,"  she  said  humbly;  "I  under- 
stood you  to  say  as  how  you  would  introduce  me  to  your 
family  and  friends  in  town  and  in  the  country.  I  didn't 
mean  any  offence — indeed,  indeed,  I  didn't." 

"And  none  is  taken,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth  graciously, 
thinking  to  herself,  "One  must  suit  oneself  to  one's  com- 


THE  MAS8ARENES.  29 

Eany.  That's  how  they  talk,  I  believe,  o  the  servants' 
all,  where  she  ought  to  be." 

Aloud  she  continued: 

"You  see,  whatever  one  says  at  Hcmburg,  or  indeed 
anywhere  at  all  out  of  England,  does  not  count  in  En- 
gland :  that  is  understood  everywhere  by  everybody." 

"  Really,"  murmured  Mrs.  Massarene,  confused  and 
crestfallen  :  for  it  had  been  on  the  faith  of  this  fair  lady's 
promises  and  predictions  in  the  past  summer  that  Barren* 
den  House  and  Vale  Royal  had  been  purchased. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth  rather  tartly,  still 
looking  at  the  gold  water-vase,  which  exercised  a  strange 
fascination  over  her,  as  if  it  were  a  fetish  which  she  was 
compelled,  nolens  volens,  to  worship.  "  Only  imagine  what 
a  mob  we  should  have  round  us  at  home  if  every  one  we 
were  civil  to  in  Nice  and  Florence  and  Homburg  and 
Ostend,  and  all  the  other  places,  could  take  us  seriously 
and  expect  to  be  invited  by  us  here.  It  would  be  fright- 
ful." 

Margaret  Massarene  sighed :  existence  seemed  to  her 
complicated  and  difficult  to  an  extent  which  she  could 
never  have  credited  in  the  days  when  she  had  carried  her 
milking-pails  to  and  from  the  rich  grass  meadows  of  her 
old  home  m  Ulster.  In  those  remote  and  simple  days 
"  I'll  be  glad  to  see  you  "  meant  "  I  shall  be  glad,"  and 
when  you  ate  out  of  your  neighbor's  potato  bowl,  your 
neighbor  had  a  natural  right  to  eat  in  return  out  of  yours 
— a  right  never  disavowed.  But  in  the  great  world  these 
rules  of  veracity  and  reciprocity  seemed  unknown.  Lady 
Kenilworth  sat  lost  in  thought  some  moments,  playing 
with  the  ends  of  her  feather  boa  and  thinking  whether  the 
game  were  worth  the  candle.  It  would  be  such  a  dread- 
ful bore  !. 

Then  there  came  before  her  mind's  eyes  the  sum  total 
of  many  unpaid  bills,  and  the  vision  of  that  infinite 
sweetness  which  lies  in  renewed  and  unlimited  credit. 

"You  want  to  be  lancce?"  she  said  at  last  in  her 
brusque  yet  graceful  manner  suddenly,  as  she  withdrew 
her  gaze  from  the  tea-table,  "Well,  sometimes  to  succeed 
socially  is  very  easy  and  sometimes  it  is  very  difficult — for 
new  people  very  difficult.  Society  is  always  uncertain. 


SO  THE  MASSAEENES. 

It  acts  on  no  fixed  principles.  It  keeps  out  A.  and  lets  in 
B.,  and  couldn't  possibly  say  why  it  does  either.  Your 
money  alone  won't  help  you.  There  are  such  swarms  of 
rich  persons,  and  everybody  who  gets  rich  wants  the  same 
thing.  You  are,  I  believe,  enormously  rich,  but  there  are 
a  good  many  enormously  rich.  The  world  is  in  a  queer 
state ;  ninety  out  of  a  hundred  have  nothing  but  debts, 
the  other  ten  are  gorged  on  money,  gorged ;  it  is  very 
queer.  Something  is  wrong.  The  sense  of  proportion 
has  gone  out  of  life  altogether.  You  want,  you  say,  to 
know  people.  Well,  I  can  let  you  see  them ;  you  can 
come  and  meet  them  at  my  house  ;  but  I  can't  make  them 
take  you  up  if  they  won't  do  it." 

Mrs.  Massarene  sighed.  She  dared  not  say  so,  but  she 
thought — of  what  use  had  been  all  the  sums  flung  away  at 
this  lovely  lady's  bidding  in  the  previous  autumn? 

u  It  is  no  use  to  waste  time  on  the  idiot,"  reflected  her 
visitor.  "  She  don't  understand  a  word  one  says,  and  she 
thinks  they  can  buy  Society  as  if  it  were  a  penny  bun. 
Old  Billy's  sharper ;  I  wonder  he  had  not  the  sense  to 
divorce  her  in  the  States,  or  wherever  they  come  from." 

"  Where's  your  man  ?  "  she  said  impatiently. 

"  William's  in  the  City,  my  lady,"  answered  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene proudly.  "  William,  ma'am,  is  very  much  thought 
of  in  the  City." 

"  He's  on  lots  of  things,  I  suppose  ?  " 

After  some  moments'  puzzled  reflection  his  wife  replied, 
"  Meaning  Boards,  ma'am  ?  Yes,  he  is.  They  seem  they 
can't  do  without  him.  William  had  always  a  wonderful 
head  for  business." 

"  Ah!  "said  Lady  Kenilworth.  "He  must  put  Cocky 
on  some  good  things.  My  husband,  you  know.  Every- 
thing is  done  by  companies  nowadays.  Even  the  Derby 
favorite  is  owned  by  a  syndicate.  Tell  him  to  put  Lord 
Kenilworth  on  all  his  good  things,  and  not  to  mind  if  he's 
unpunctual.  Lord  Kenilworth  never  can  understand  why 
half-past  two  isn't  the  same  hour  as  twelve." 

"  That  won't  do  in  business,  my  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene boldly,  for  here  she  was  sure  of  her  ground.  "Five 
minutes  late  writes  ruin  sometimes." 

"  Does  it  indeed  ?     I  suppose  that's  what  makes  it  so 


THE  MASSARENES.  31 

fetching.     I  am  sure  it  would  do  Cocky  worlds  of  good ; 
wake  him  up ;  give  him  things  to  think  of." 

"Is  my  lord  a  business  man,  ma'am? "said  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene,  with  great  doubt  in  her  tone. 

"Oh,  they  all  are  now,  you  know.  Cocky 's  very  lazy, 
but  he's  very  clever." 

"  My  lord  don't  want  to  be  clever ;  he'll  be  duke,"  said 
Mrs.  Massarene,  intending  no  sarcasm.  "I  can't  think, 
ma'am,  as  your  noble  husband  would  like  to  toil  and  moil 
in  the  City." 

"  No — no ;  but  to  be  on  things,  you  know,"  answered 
her  visitor  vaguely.  "  You  send  Mr.  Massarene  to  me 
and  we'll  talk  about  it.  He  musn't  mind  if  Lord  Kenil- 
worth  only  gives  his  name  and  never  shows." 

Mrs.  Massarene's  was  a  slow  brain  and  a  dull  one,  but 
she  was  not  really  stupid ;  in  some  matters  she  was  shrewd, 
and  she  began  dimly  to  perceive  what  was  expected  of  her 
and  her  William,  and  what  quid  pro  quo  would  be  de- 
manded by  this  lovely  lady  who  had  the  keys  of  society  if 
she  used  any  of  these  keys  in  their  favor ;  she  had  had  glim- 
merings of  this  before,  but  it  had  never  presented  itself 
before  her  so  clearly  as  now.  She  had  sense  enough,  how- 
ever, to  keep  the  discovery  to  herself.  "I'll  tell  Mr. 
Massarene,  ma'am,"  she  said  meekly,  "and  I  know  he'll  be 
very  proud  to  wait  on  you.  Shall  it  be  to-morrow?  " 

"Yes;  to-morrow,  before  luncheon.  About  half -past 
twelve." 

"  I  won't  forget,  ma'am." 

"  And  I'll  come  arid  dine  with  you  next  week.  I'll 
bring  some  people,  my  sisters;  they  won't  mind,  Carrie 
certainly  won't.  Lady  Wisbeach,  you  know.  What  day? 
Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  must  go  home  and  look  at  my  book. 
I  think  there  is  something  of  no  importance  that  I  can 
throw  over  next  week." 

"  And  how  many  will  be  there  at  dinner,  ma'am,"  asked 
Mrs.  Massarene,  feeling  hot  all  over,  as  she  would  have 
expressed  it,  at  the  prospect  of  this  banquet. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  can't  say.     I'll  see  who  will  come.     You 
have  a  very  good  chef,  haven't  you  ?     If  not  I  could  get 
you  Van  Holstein's.     You  know  when  people  are  well  fed  >, 
once  they'll  come  to  be  fed  again,  and  they  tell  others." 


32  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"Just  like  fowls,"  murmured  Mrs.  Massarene,  her  mind 
reverting  to  the  poultry  yard  of  her  youth,  with  the  hens 
running  over  and  upsetting  each  other  in  their  haste  to 
get  to  the  meal-pan. 

She  was  sensible  of  an  awakening  interest  of  a  warmer 
tinge  in  the  manner  of  her  protectress,  since  the  subject 
of  good  things  in  the  City  had  been  broached. 

"  You  mustn't  want  to  go  too  fast  at  once,"  continued 
that  fair  lady.  "  It's  like  cycling.  You'll  wobble  about 
and  get  a  good  many  falls  at  first.  But  you've  begun  well. 
You've  a  beautiful  house,  and  you  have  my  cousin's  place, 
in  the  heart  of  a  hunting  county.  Several  of  the  county 
people  have  asked  me  about  the  purchaser  of  Vale  Royal, 
and  I  have  always  said  something  nice  about  you  both. 
You  know  I  have  been  four  months  on  the  Nile,  and  one 
sees  the  whole  world  there ;  such  a  climate  as  this  is  to 
return  to  after  Egypt !  Why  weren't  you  in  Egypt  ?  Oh, 
I  forgot ;  your  man's  member  for  Limehouse,  isn't  he  ? 
I  wonder  the  party  hasn't  done  more  for  you.  But,  you 
see,  money  alone,  unless  there  is  tact Well,  I  dare- 
say I  can't  make  you  understand  if  I  talk  till  doomsday  ; 
I  have  two  or  three  people  the  night  after  to-morrow.  I 
will  send  you  a  card.  And,  by  the  way,  you  had  better 
tell  Khris  to  call  on  me  if  he  be  in  town.  I  will  talk  over 
with  him  what  we  can  do  for  you." 

Mr.  Winter,  standing  within  earshot,  at  a  discreet  dis- 
tance, to  all  appearance  as  bereft  of  sight  and  hearing, 
and  impervious  as  a  statue  to  all  sight  and  sounds,  lost 
riot  a  syllable  uttered  by  Lady  Kenilworth,  and  approved 
of  all.  "It  is  clever  of  her,"  he  thought,  "to  be  ready  to 
go  halves  in  the  spoils  with  that  old  prince.  Meet  him 
half  way,  she  does ;  mighty  clever  that ;  she'll  cut  his 
claws  and  draw  his  teeth.  She's  a  lady  of  the  right  sort, 
she  is.  If  she  weren't  quite  so  clever  she'd  have  him 
jealous  of  him  and  have  made  an  enemy  of  him  at  the 
onset." 

His  employer  meantime  was  exhausting  her  somewhat 
limited  vocabulary  in  agitated  thanks  and  protestations  of 
undying  gratitude  which  Lady  Kenilworth  nipped  in  the 
bud  by  giving  her  two  fingers  chillily  and  hurrying  away, 
her  farewell  glance  being  cast  at  the  golden  water-vase. 


THE  MAS8ABENE8.  33 

"  Khris  a  house  decorator  and  I  a  tout !  How  very 
dreadful  it  is  !  But  hard  times  make  strange  trades," 
thought  the  young  mother  of  Jack  and  Boo,  as  she  sank 
down  on  the  soft  seat  of  her  little  brougham,  and  was  borne 
swiftly  away  to  other  houses,  as  the  lamps  begun  to  shine 
through  the  foggy  evening  air. 
3 


34  THE  HASSARENE& 


CHAPTER  III. 

MBS.  MASSABENE  had  conducted  her  visitor  with  great 
obsequiousness  to  the  head  of  the  staircase,  and  would 
have  gone  down  the  stairs  with  her  had  not  Lady  Kenil- 
worth  prevented  such  a  demonstration. 

"  My  dear  creature, '  pray  don't !  One  only  does  that 
for  royalty,"  she  had  said,  while  a  repressed  grin  was  vis- 
ible through  the  impassive  masks  of  all  the  footmen's 
faces  where  they  stood  above  and  below. 

"  How  ever  is  one  to  know  what's  right  and  what's 
wrong,"  thought  the  mistress  of  Harrenden  House,  rest- 
ing her  hands  for  a  moment  upon  the  carved  rail  of  the 
balustrade,  and  eyeing  nervously  the  naked  boy  of  Clo- 
dion.  That  statue  was  very  terrible  to  her ;  "  To  set  a 
lad  without  any  scrap  o'  clothes  on  a-beckoning  with  a 
bird  to  everybody  as  come  upstairs,  I  can't  think  as  it's 
decent  or  proper,"  she  said  constantly  to  her  husband. 
But  a  master  hand  had  indicated  the  top  of  the  staircase 
as  the  proper  place  for  that  nude  young  falconer  to  stand, 
in  all  his  mingled  realism  and  idealization ;  therefore,  no 
one  could  be  bold  enough  to  move  him  elsewhere,  and  he 
leaned  airily  against  the  old  choir-carving,  and  wore  a 
fawn-like  smile  as  he  tossed  his  hawk  above  his  head  and 
stretched  his  hand  outward  as  though  to  beckon  the 
crowds,  which  would  not  come,  up  that  silent  stair. 

But  the  crowds  were  coming  now ! 

For  where  Lady  Kenilworth  pointed,  the  world  would 
surely  follow ;  and  the  heart  of  simple  Margaret  Massa- 
rene,  late  Margaret  Hogan,  dairymaid  of  Kilrathy,  County 
Down,  beat  high  in  her  breast  under  the  red  and  gold  of 
her  gorgeous  bodice.  "  It's  mighty  hard  work  being  a 
lady,"  she  thought,  "but  since  I've  got  to  be  one,  I'd  like 
to  go  the  whole  hog,  and  show  Kathleen  when  she  comes 
back  to  us  that  we  are  as  smart  gentlefolks  as  any  of  her 
friends." 


THE  MASSARENES.  35 

When  Mr.  Massarene  came  home  to  dinner  that  even- 
ing, his  wife  felt  that  she  had  great  news  to  give  him. 

"I  think  she'll  take  us  up,  William,"  she  said,  almost 
under  her  breath.  "But  I  think  she'll  want  a  lot  of 
palm-grease." 

She  was  a  simple  woman,  of  coarse  views  and  expres- 
sions. 

"  Whatever  my  lady  wants  she  shall  have,"  reflected 
her  husband,  but  his  heav3r  brows  frowned ;  for  he  was  a 
man  who  did  not  like  even  the  wife  of  his  bosom  to  see 
into  his  intentions,  and  if  he  were  going  to  buy  his  way 
into  that  society  where  his  shooting-irons  were  of  no  use 
to  him,  he  did  not  care  for  even  the  "old  'ooman"  to 
know  it. 

But  the  next  day,  at  one  o'clock  precisely,  he  presented 
himself  at  the  house  in  Stanhope  Street  which  the  Kenil- 
worths  honored  by  residence.  He  looked  like  an  emi- 
nently respectable  grazier  or  cheesemonger  clothed  in  the 
best  that  money  could  buy ;  a  hat,  which  was  oppressively 
lustrous  and  new,  was  carried  in  his  hand  with  a  pair  of 
new  gloves.  In  his  shirt-sleeves  and  butcher-boots,  with 
a  brace  of  revolvers  in  his  belt,  as  he  had  sworn  at  his 
plate-layers,  or  his  diggers,  or  his  puddlers,  in  the  hard 
bright  light  of  the  Dakotan  sun,  he  had  been  a  formidable 
and  manly  figure  in  keeping  with  the  giant  rocks,  and  the 
seething  streams,  and  the  rough  boulder-strewn  roads  of 
the  country  round  him.  But  standing  in  the  hall  of  a 
London  house,  clad  in  London  clothes  made  by  the  first 
tailors,  he  looked  clumsy  and  absurd,  and  he  knew  it. 
He  was  a  stolid,  sensible,  and  very  bold  man  ;  when  a 
railway  train  in  the  early  days  of  the  Pacific  road  had 
been  uheld  up  "  by  a  native  gang,  those  desperate  robbers 
had  found  more  than  their  match  in  him,  and  the  whole 
convoy,  with  the  million  odd  dollars  he  was  carrying  in 
his  breast-pocket,  had  been  saved  by  his  own  ready  and 
pitiless  courage.  But  as  he  mounted  the  staircase  in 
Stanhope  Street  his  knees  shook  and  his  tongue  clove  to 
his  teeth ;  he  felt  what  actors  describe  as  stage  fright. 

Lady  Kenilworth  had  deigned  to  know  him  at  Hom- 
burg,  had  put  him  in  the  way  of  buying  Vale  Royal  of 
her  cousin  Iloxhall,  had  dined  more  than  once  at  his  ex- 


36  THE  MASSABENES. 

pense  with  a  noisy  gay  party  who  scarcely  said  good-day 
to  him,  and  likewise  at  his  expense  had  picnicked  in  the 
woods  and  drunk  much  more  of  the  best  Rhenish  wines 
than  were  good  for  them ;  and  on  a  smooth  stretch  of 
green  sward  under  the  pines,  that  lovely  lady  had  imitated 
the  dancing  of  Nini-Patte- en-Fair  of  the  Eden  Theatre, 
until  the  "  few  last  sad  grey  hairs  "  upon  his  head  ha«l 
stood  erect  in  scandalized  amazement.  She  had  also  dined  | 
and  supped  at  his  expense  several  times  with  various 
friends  of  her  own  in  Paris,  in  the  November  following  on 
the  July  at  Homburg;  and  she  had  let  him  take  boxes  for 
her  at  the  operas  and  theatres,  and  had  generally  used  his 
purse  without  seeming  to  see  that  it  was  open  for  her. 
But  he  had  exchanged  very  few  words  with  her  (though 
he  had  already  through  her  inspiration  spent  a  good  deal 
of  money),  and  his  stout,  squat  figure  shook  like  a  leaf  as 
he  was  ushered  into  her  presence,  while  her  two  Blenheims 
flew  at  his  trousers  with  a  fugue  of  barks. 

What  a  dazzling  vision  she  was,  as  she  smiled  on  him 
across  the  flower-filled  and  perfumed  space  which  divided 
them  !  She  had  smiled  like  that  when  she  had  first  spoken 
to  him  of  buying  Vale  Royal  in  the  early-  days  of  his  ac- 
quaintance with  her.  William  Massarene  was  no  fool, 
and  he  knew  that  he  would  have  to  pay  its  full  price  for 
that  enchanting  smile,  but  though  he  was  not  its  dupe  he 
was  its  victim.  He  was  nervous  as  he  had  never  been 
when  he  had  heard  the  order,  " Hands  up!"  in  the  soli- 
tude of  a  mountain  gorge  at  midnight  amongst  the 
Rockies. 

The  smile  was  encouraging,  but  the  rest  of  the  attitude 
was  serene,  almost  severe,  as  pure  as  a  Virgin  in  a  tryp- 
tich  of  Van  der  Goes;  she  was  at  work  on  some  embroid- 
ery ;  she  had  Boo  on  a  stool  at  her  feet ;  she  looked  an 
exquisite  picture  of  youthful  maternit}^ ;  he  could  scarcely 
believe  that  he  had  seen  her  cutting  those  mad  capers  on 
the  sward  of  the  German  forest,  or  heard  her  scream  with 
laughter  at  the  supper-table  of  Bignon's. 

Boo  got  up  on  her  little  black-stockinged  legs,  ran  to 
him,  and  looked  at  him  from  under  her  golden  cloud  of  hair. 

"What  has  oo  brought  me?"  said  the  true  child  of 
modernity. 


TEE  MASSARENES.  37 

44  Do  you  remember  the  sweeties  at  the  Baths,  my  lovely 
darling?"  stammered  Mr.  Massarene,  immensely  touched 
and  gratified  at  the  child's  recollection  of  him,  and  full  of 
remorse  that  he  had  not  rifled  Regent  Street. 

"  Boo  always  remembers  her  friends,"  said  Boo's  mother 
very  pleasantly,  as  she  delivered  him  from  the  Blenheims, 
and  made  him  seat  himself  beside  her. 

"  Old  fat  man's  come  as  was  at  Ornbo ;  but  he  didn't 
bring  nothin'  for  us,"  said  Boo  to  Jack  at  the  nursery 
dinner  ten  minutes  later.  "  Mammy's  goin'  to  get  some- 
thin'  'cos  she  was  so  civil  to  him." 

"  Oo're  always  thinkin'  of  gettin,  Boo,"  said  Jack,  with 
his  rosy  mouth  full  of  mashed  potato. 

"What's  the  use  o'  peoples  else?"  said  his  sister 
solemnly,  picking  up  the  roast  mutton  which  her  nurse 
had  cut  up  into  little  dice  on  her  plate. 

Jack  pondered  awhile  upon  this  question. 

"I  likes  peoples  'cos  I  like  'em,"  he  replied  at  last. 

44  You're  a  boy ! "  returned  his  sister  with  withering 
contempt. 

A  week  later,  Boo's  mother,  with  a  very  gay  and  hila- 
rious round  dozen  of  friends,  including  her  eldest  sister, 
Lady  Wisbeach,  dined  at  Harrenden  House,  and  the  gen- 
tleman known  as  Harry  took  in  Mrs.  Massarene. 

Two  weeks  later  the  Massarenes  breakfasted  in  Stan- 
hope Street  expressly  to  meet  an  imperial  grand  duchess 
who  at  that  time  was  running  about  London ;  and  the 
grand  duchess  was  very  smiling  and  good-natured,  and 
chattered  volubly,  and  invited  herself  to  dinner  at  Harren- 
den House. 

"  They  do  tell  me,"  she  said  graciously,  "  that  you  have 
such  a  wonderful  Clodion." 

Three  weeks  later  William  Massarene  allowed  himself 
to  be  led  into  the  purchase  of  a  great  Scotch  estate  of 
moor,  seashore,  and  morass,  in  the  extreme  northwest  of 
Scotland,  which  had  come  to  Brancepeth  through  his  late 
maternal  grandmother,  and  which  had  been  always  con- 
sidered as  absolutely  unsaleable  on  account  of  certain 
conditions  attached  to  its  purchase,  and  of  the  fact  that  it 
had  been  for  many  years  ill-preserved  and  its  sport  ruined, 
the  deer  having  been  destroyed  by  crofters. 


38  THE  MASSARENES. 

Brancepeth,  who  was  primitive  and  simple  in  many  of 
his  ideas,  had  demurred  to  the  transaction. 

"  This  beggar  don't  know  anything  about  sport,"  he  said 
to  the  intermediary,  Mouse  ;  "  'cause  he's  buying  a  deer 
forest  he  takes  for  granted  he'll  find  deer.  'Tisirt  fair, 
you  know.  One  ought  to  tell  him  that  he'll  get  no 
more  stalking  there  than  he'd  get  on  Woolwich  Com- 
mon." 

"  Why  should  you  tell  him  anything  ?  "  said  his  friend. 
"  He  can  ask  a  factor,  can't  he  ?  " 

"  Well,  but  it  would  only  be  honest,  you  know." 

"  You  are  odiously  ungrateful,"  said  Mouse  with  much 
heat.  "  I  might  have  made  the  man  buy  Black  Alder  of 
us,  and  I  chose  to  get  him  to  buy  your  place  instead." 

Brancepeth  made  a  droll  face  very  like  what  Jack  would 
make  when  he  kept  in  a  naughty  word  for  fear  of  his 
nurse.  He  thought  to  himself  that  the  fair  lady  who  was 
rating  him  knew  very  well  that  her  share  in  the  purchase 
money  of  Black  Alder,  which  belonged  to  her  lord,  would 
have  been  remarkably  small,  whilst  her  share  of  that  of 
Blair  Airon — but  there  are  some  retorts  a  man  who  is  a 
gentleman  cannot  make,  however  obvious  and  merited 
they  may  be. 

"  Get  him  to  buy  ?em  both,"  he  said,  tossing  cakes  to 
the  Blenheims.  "  You  do  what  you  like  with  the  cad  ; 
turn  him  round  your  little  finger.  One's  just  as  much  a 
white  elephant  as  t'other,  and  it's  no  use  knowing  sweeps 
unless  you  make  'em  clean  your  chimneys." 

"Mr.  Massarene  is  not  a  cad  or  a  sweep,"  said  his  friend 
in  a  tone  of  reproof.  "  He  is  a  very  clever  man  of 
business." 

"  He  must  be  to  have  to  think  of  buying  Blair 
Airon  !  " 

"  Probably  he  will  make  it  productive.  Or  if  he  wants 
big  game  he'll  import  it  from  the  Rockies,  or — or — from 
somewhere.  What  he  wants  is  Scottish  land ;  well,  the 
land  is  there,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  invariably  glossed  over  to  herself  these  transactions 
which  she  knew  very  well  were  discreditable,  and  she  was 
always  extremely  angry  with  those  who  failed  to  keep  up 
the  glamour  of  fiction  in  which  she  arrayed  them.  Con- 


THE  MASSARENES.  39 

science  she  had  not,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  but  she 
had  certain  instincts  of  breeding  which  made  some  of  her 
own  actions  disagreeable  to  her,  and  only  supportable  if 
they  were  disguised,  as  a  courtly  chemist  silvered  for  her 
the  tonic  pills  which  as  courtly  a  physician  prescribed 
when  she,  who  could  ride  all  day  and  dance  all  night, 
desired  her  nervous  system  to  be  found  in  jeopardy. 

"  He  buys  with  his  e}7es  open.  No  one  has  misrepre- 
sented anything,"  she  added  calmly.  "  He  can  send  an 
army  of  factors  to  look  at  the  estate  if  he  pleases.  Pray 
don't  be  a  fool,  Harry  ;  and  when  your  bread  is  buttered 
for  you  don't  quarrel  with  it." 

Harry  did  as  he  was  bid. 

His  principles  were  not  very  fine,  or  very  strong,  but 
they  were  the  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  They  were 
smothered  under  the  unscrupulousness  of  a  woman  who 
had  influence  over  him,  ag  so  many  of  the  best  feelings 
and  qualities  of  men  often  are.  Blair  A  iron  was  sold  to 
William  Massarene  ;  and  at  the  same  period  many  trades- 
men in  Paris  and  London  who  dealt  in  toilettes,  per- 
fumes, jewelery,  fans  and  lingerie  were  agreeably  sur- 
prised by  receiving  large  instalments  of  what  was  due  to 
them  from  their  customer,  Lady  Kenil worth.  To  what 
better  use  could  barren  rocks,  and  dreary  sands,  and  a 
dull  rambling  old  house,  which  dated  from  James  IV.  and 
stood  in  the  full  teeth  of  the  north  wind  facing  the 
Orkneys,  have  possibly  been  put  than  to  be  thus  trans- 
muted into  gossamer  body  linen,  and  petticoats  covered 
with  real  lace,  and  exquisite  essences,  and  fairy-like  shoes, 
with  jewels  worked  into  their  kid,  and  court  trains,  with 
hand-woven  embroideries  in  gold  and  silver  on  their 
velvet? 

If  William  Massarene  discovered  that  he  had  bought  a 
white  elephant  he  never  said  so  to  anyone,  and  no  one 
ventured  to  say  so  to  him.  All  new  men  have  a  mania 
for  buying  Scotch  shootings,  and  if  there  was  little  or 
nothing  to  shoot  at  Blair  Airon  the  fact  served  fora  laugh 
at  the  clubs  when  the  purchaser  was  not  present.  The 
purchaser,  however,  knew  well  that  there  were  no  deer, 
and  that  there  was  scarce  fur  or  feather  on  the  barren 
soil;  he  had  not  bought  without  first  "prospecting";  he 


40  THE  MASSARENES. 

was  too  old  a  hand  at  such  matters.  But  he  had  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  those  in  his  interests  who  had  drawn  his  at- 
tention to  the  fact,  and  he  had  signed  and  sealed  the 
transfer  of  the  estate  to  himself  without  a  protest. 

Nobody  in  North  Dakota  it  is  true  could  ever  have 
cheated  him  out  of  a  red  deer  or  a  red  cent,  but  then  no- 
body in  North  Dakota  had  ever  held  that  magic  key  to 
the  entrance  of  good  society  which  he  so  ardently  coveted. 
He  was  prepared  to  pay  very  liberally  to  obtain  that  key. 
He  was  far  from  generous  by  nature,  but  he  could  be  gen- 
erous to  extravagance  when  it  suited  him  to  be  so. 

William  Massarene  was  a  short,  broad,  heavily-built 
man,  like  his  wife  in  feature,  and  having,  like  her,  a 
muddy-pale  complexion  which  the  Sierra  suns  had  had  no 
force  to  warm  and  the  cold  blasts  of  the  North  Pacific  no 
power  to  bleach.  His  close-shut,  thin,  long  lips,  his  square 
jaw,  and  his  intent  gray  eye£,  showed,  however,  in  his 
countenance,  a  degree  of  volition  and  of  intelligence  which 
were  his  portion  alone,  and  with  which  hers  had  no  like- 
ness. He  was  a  silent,  and  seemed  a  dull,  man ;  but  he 
had  a  clear  brain  and  a  ruthless  will,  and  he  had  in  its 
full  strength  that  genius  for  making  money  which  is  inde- 
pendent of  education  and  scornful  of  culture,  yet  is  the 
only  original  offspring  of  that  modern  life  in  which  edu- 
cation is  an  institution  and  culture  is  a  creed. 

When  he  had  been  only  eighteen  years  of  age  he  had 
married  Margaret  Hogan,  because  she  was  a  stout  strong 
hard-working  wench,  and  had  at  once  taken  a  steerage 
ticket  to  New  York. 

When  he  reached  the  United  States  he  had  gone 
straightway  to  the  new  settlements  in  North  Dakota, 
where  cities  consisted  of  plank-walks  and  shingle-roof 
shanties,  and  where  the  inhabitants  of  those  cities  were 
rougher  and  ruder  even  than  himself.  He  had  scent  for 
wealth  as  a  thirsty  steer  for  distant  water-springs,  and  he 
said  to  himself :  "  I  won't  leave  off  till  I'm  second  to  Jay 
Gould." 

He  began  very  modestly  by  employing  himself  as  a  pig- 
sticker and  opening  a  pork  shop  in  a  town  called  Kero- 
sene. His  wife  made  and  fried  sausages  to  perfection. 
The  shop  became  a  popular  resort,  and,  in  the  back  room, 


THE  %A8SA&ENm.  41 

miners,  diggers,  cattlemen,  and  all  the  roughs  for  miles 
around  came  to  eat  sausages,  and  found  drinks,  hot  as 
flame,  and  play  ad  libitum.  Sometimes  they  staked  nug- 
gets, and  lost  them. 

William  Massarene  never  played,  he  only  watched  the 
gamblers,  and  when  they  wanted  money  lent  it  to  them, 
or  if  they  sold  a  nugget  bought  it.  They  were  a  wild  lot 
who  cared  neither  for  man  nor  devil ;  but  he  knew  how  to 
keep  them  in  order  with  his  cold  grey  eyes  and  his  good 
six-shooter.  Many  swore  that  they  would  kill  him  or  rob 
him  ;  but  nobody  ever  did  either,  though  several  tried  to 
do  both. 

His  wife  was  liked  ;  hard-worked  as  she  was  she  found 
time  to  do  a  good  turn  to  sick  neighbors  unknown  to 
him  ;  and  more  than  one  rough  fellow  spared  him  because 
she  had  been  kind  to  his  kids  or  had  brought  some  broth 
to  his  girl.  The  sausage-shop  in  dreary,  dirt}%  plank- 
made  Kerosene  City  was  the  foundation  of  his  fortune. 

How  the  place  had  stunk  and  how  it  had  reeked  with 
tobacco  stench  and  echoed  with  foul  outcries  and  the 
blows  and  shots  of  ruined  and  reckless  men  !  Margaret 
Massarene  often  dreamt  of  it,  and  when  she  did  so 
dream,  woke,  bathed  in  sweat,  and  filled  with  nameless 
terror. 

Her  husband  never  dreamed,  except  when  wide-awake 
and  of  his  own  glories. 

Kerosene  City  had  long  outgrown  its  infancy  of  planks 
and  shingles,  and  had  expanded  into  a  huge  town  crammed 
with  factories,  and  tall  houses,  tramways  and  elevators 
and  churches,  sky -scraping  roofs,  electric  railways,  chem- 
ical works,  fire-belching  foundries,  hissing,  screaming, 
vomiting  machinery,  and  all  the  many  joys  of  modern  arid 
American  civilization. 

But  Kerosene  City,  most  of  it  Mr.  Massarene's  prop- 
erty, was  but  an  item  in  the  Massarene  property.  He  had 
been  in  many  trades  and  many  speculations ;  he  owned 
railway  plant  and  cattle  ranches  and  steam-boats  and 
grain-depots,  and  docks  and  tramways  and  manufactories, 
and  men  and  women  and  children  labored  for  him  day  and 
night  by  thousands  harder  than  the  Israelites  toiled  for 
the  Pharaohs. 


42  THE  MASSAREXES. 

Everything  turned  to  gold  that  he  touched.  He 
bought  for  little  with  prodigious  insight  and  sold  for  much 
with  the  same  intuition.  No  foolish  scruples  hampered 
his  acquisitiveness,  no  weak-minded  compassion  ever 
arrested  him  on  any  road  which  led  to  his  own  advantage. 
He  had  never  been  known  to  relent  or  to  regret,  to  give 
except  in  ostentation,  or  to  stir  a  step  unless  self-interest 
suggested  and  self-recompense  awaited  it.  Herbert 
Spencer  has  said  that  kindness  and  courtesy  are  indis- 
pensable to  success :  William  Massarene  knew  better 
than  that  philosopher.  He  had  lived  amongst  men,  and 
not  amongst  books.  In  the  land  of  his  adoption  his 
fellows  feared  him  as  they  feared  no  one  else  ;  his  few 
short  hard  words  cut  them  like  the  knotted  lash  of  an 
overseer's  whip.  He  was  dreaded,  obeyed,  hated:  that 
was  all  the  feeling  he  cared  to  excite. 

Whilst  he  remained  in  that  country  he  never  lived  like  a 
man  of  any  means;  he  never  spent  a  dollar  on  personal 
ease  or  comfort ;  but  it  was  known  far  and  wide  that  after 
Vanderbilt  and  Pullman  the  biggest  pile  in  the  States  was 
his ;  his  wife  alone  did  not  know  it. 

To  the  day  that  she  sailed  past  Sandy  Hook  on  her  way 
home  Margaret  Massarene  had  never  ceased  to  work  hard 
and  to  save  any  red  cent  she  could.  She  knew  nothing  of 
his  business,  of  his  ambitions,  of  his  hoarded  wealth  ; 
when  he  took  a  first-class  cabin  on  a  Cunard  steamer  and 
bade  her  get  a  sealskin  cloak  for  the  voyage  and  buy  her- 
self a  handsome  outfit,  she  was  astounded. 

"  We'll  come  back  great  folks  and  buy  out  the  old 
\ins,"  he  had  said  to  her  thirty-five  years  earlier,  as  they 
had  meekly  set  down  their  bundles  and  umbrellas  amongst 
the  steerage  passengers  of  the  emigrant  ship  and  seen  the 
shores  of  Ireland  fade  from  their  sight  as  the  day  had 
waned.  All  through  the  thirty-five  years  which  he  had 
spent  on  alien  soil  he  had  never  forgotten  his  object;  he 
had  lived  miserably,  saving  and  screwing,  paring  and 
hoarding,  happy  in  the  knowledge  that  his  "  pile  "  grew 
and  grew  and  grew,  a  little  bigger,  a  little  broader,  with 
every  day  which  dawned  ;  and  when  it  was  big  enough 
and  broad  enough  for  him  to  sit  on  it,  monarch  of  all 
which  he  might  choose  to  survey,  he  said  to  his  wife ; 


THE  MASSARENES.  43 

"Marg'ret,  woman,  it's  time  to  shut  up  the  store.  We'll 
be  going  home,  I'm  thmkin',  and  buyin'  the  old  uns  out. 
I  said  as  I'd  do  it,  didn't  I,  five -arid-thirty  year  agone  ?  " 

And  his  wife,  being  only  a  woman  and  therefore  foolish, 
burst  out  crying  aud  threw  her  apron  over  her  head. 

"  But  the  dear  old  folk  they  be  dead,  William ;  and 
dead  be  my  poor  babies  too !  " 

Then  her  William  smiled ;  a  very  rare  thing  to  see  was 
a  smile  on  his  tight  straight  lips. 

"  'Tisn't  those  old  folks  I'm  meanin' — and  ye've  your 
daughter  surely  to  comfort  ye  ;  well  marry  her  to  a  lord 
duke." 

Margaret  Massarene  had  dried  her  tears  knowing  that 
weeping  would  not  bring  her  back  her  old  parents  whose 
bones  lay  under  the  rich  grass  in  Kilrathy,  nor  her  little 
lost  boys  who  had  been  killed — two  in  a  blizzard  on  the 
cruel  central  plains,  and  one  in  a  forest  fire  by  a  rushing 
herd  of  terrified  cattle.  She  had  dried  her  tears,  bought 
her  sealskins  and  velvets  as  she  was  bidden  to  do,  and 
come  eastward  with  her  lord  in  all  the  pomp  and  plenty 
which  can  be  purchased  on  a  first-class  ocean  steamer,  and 
when  the  distant  line  of  the  low  green  shores  of  Cork 
became  visible  to  her,  she  had  turned  round  the  rings  on 
her  large  fingers  and  patted  the  heavy  bracelets  on  her 
wrists  to  make  sure  that  both  were  real,  and  said  in  her 
own  heart  if  only  the  old  people  had  been  living,  if  only 
her  three  boys  had  been  there  beside  her,  if  only  she  could 
go  once  more  a  buxom  girl  in  a  cotton  frock  through  the 
sweet  wet  grass  with  her  milking  stool !  But  William 
Massarene,  as  he  looked  at  the  low  green  shores,  had  no 
such  fond  and  futile  regrets;  he  set  his  legs  wide  apart 
and  crossed  his  hands  on  the  handle  of  his  stick  and  said 
only  to  himself,  with  a  pride  which  was  fairly  legitimate 
if  its  sources  were  foul — 

"  I  did  as  I  said  I'd  do ;  I've  come  back  as  I  said  I'd 
come  back." 

For  him,  the  herdsman  who  had  tramped  to  and  fro  the 
pastures  in  the  falling  rain,  carrying  a  newly-dropped  calf 
after  its  mother,  or  driving  a  heifer  to  meet  the  butcher's 
knife,  had  been  dead  and  gone  for  five  and  thirty  years ; 
there  was  only  alive  now  William  Massarene,  millionaire 


44  THE  MASSARENES. 

ten  times  over,  who  had  the  power  of  the  purse  in  his 
pocket  and  meant  to  buy  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  with 
it. 

As  yet,  he  had,  in  his  own  ambitious  sense  of  the  words, 
failed  to  buy  them.  He  remained  one  of  the  obscure  rich, 
who  are  unknown  to  fame  and  to  princes.  It  was  not  for 
lack  of  expenditure  that  he  had  hitherto  failed  to  gratify 
his  social  ambitions.  He  had  not  understood  how  to  set 
about  the  matter ;  he  had  been  timid  and  awkward ;  his 
wife  had  been  a  drag  on  him,  and  his  daughter,  on  whom 
he  had  counted  for  the  best  of  assistance,  had  declined  to 
accept  the  office  which  he  assigned  to  her.  He  had  lost 
time,  missed  occasions,  failed  to  advance  to  his  goal  in  a 
manner  which  intensely  irritated  a  man  who  had  never 
before  this  been  foiled  or  baulked  in  any  of  his  plans.  He 
had  learned  that  the  great  world  was  not  a  drinking  den, 
to  be  entered  by  "  bluff,"  with  a  nugget  in  one  hand  and  a 
revolver  in  the  other ;  and  in  this  stage  of  chagrin  and 
disappointment,  Lady  Kenilworth  held  out  her  hand  to 
him.  He  had  done  all  that  he  knew  how  to  do.  He  had 
been  returned  for  a  metropolitan  division  and  elected  to 
the  Carl  ton.  He  and  his  wife  had  been  presented  at  Court 
almost  as  soon  as  they  had  arrived  in  England.  They  had 
been  invited  to  a  few  political  houses.  They  had  gone 
where  everybody  went  in  summer,  winter,  spring,  and. 
autumn.  His  subscriptions  were  many  and  large.  His 
financial  value  was  recognized  by  Conservative  leaders. 
But  there  he  remained.  He  was  an  outsider,  and  in  this 
period  of  perplexity,  disappointment,  and  futile  aspirations 
to  the  "  smart  world,"  Lady  Kenilworth,  the  high  priestess 
of  smartness,  held  out  her  hand  to  him* 


THE  MASSARENES.  45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LADY  KENILWORTH  was  the  prettiest  woman  in  En- 
gland ;  her  family,  the  Courcys  of  Faldon,  was  renowned 
for  physical  charms,  and  she  was  the  loveliest  of  them  all, 
exactly  reproducing  a  famous  Romney  which  portrayed 
the  features  of  her  great  great  grandmother. 

She  had  eyes  like  forget-me-nots,  a  brilliantly  fair  skin, 
a  purely  classic  profile,  a  mass  of  sunny  shining  hair, 
which  needed  no  arts  to  brighten  or  to  ripple  it,  and  a 
carriage,  which  for  airy  grace  and  supreme  distinction,  had 
its  equal  nowhere  among  her  contemporaries.  Her  bap- 
tismal name  of  Clare  had  been  almost  entirely  abandoned 
by  her  relatives  and  friends,  and  she  was  always  called  by 
them  Mouse,  a  nickname  given  her  in  nursery  days  when 
she  pillaged  her  elder  sisters'  bonbons  and  made  raids  on 
the  early  strawberry  beds,  and  which  had  gained  in  the 
course  of  time  many  variations,  such  as  Sourisette,  Petit 
Rat,  Topinetta,  Fine-ears,  Liebe  Mus,  and  any  other  de- 
rivative which  came  to  the  lips  of  her  associates. 

She  had  a  mouse  painted  on  the  panels  of  her  village 
cart,  stamped  in  silver  on  her  note  paper,  mounted  in  gold 
on  her  riding  whip,  cut  in  chrysoprase  as  a  charm,  and 
made  of  diamonds  as  a  locket ;  and  many  and  various  were 
the  forms  in  which  the  little  rodent  was  offered  to  her  by 
her  adorers  on  New  Year's  Day  and  at  Easter.  She  had, 
indeed,  so  identified  herself  with  the  nickname,  that  when 
she  signed  her  name  in  a  royal  album,  or  to  a  ceremonious 
letter,  she  had  great  difficulty  in  remembering  to  write 
herself  down  Clare  Kenilworth. 

When  she  had  been  brought  out  at  eighteen  years  old, 
she  had  been  the  idol  of  the  season  ;  people  had  stood  on 
chairs  and  benches  in  the  Park  to  see  her  drive  to  her 
first  Drawing-room.  It  was  not  only  her  physical  charms 
which  were  great,  but  her  manner,  her  scornful  grace,  her 
airy  hauteur,  and  the  mixture  in  her  expression  of  dare- 
devil audacity  and  childlike  innocence,  were  fascinations 


16  THE  MASSARENES. 

all  her  own.  The  way  she  wore  her  clothes,  the  way  she 
moved,  the  things  she  said,  the  challenge  of  her  sapphire 
eyes,  were  all  enchanting  and  indescribable.  She  "  fetched 
the  town  "  as  soon  as  she  was  out  in  an  amazing  manner; 
and  it  was  thought  that  she  had  thrown  away  her  chances 
in  an  astonishing  degree  when  it  was  known  that  she  had 
accepted  the  hand  of  a  little  mauvais  sujet,  known  as 
Cocky  to  all  London  and  half  Europe,  who  passed  his 
time  in  the  lowest  company  he  could  find,  and  was  with- 
out stamina,  principles,  or  credit.  But  she  knew  what 
she  was  about,  and  without  giving  any  explanation  to  her 
people,  she  dismissed  the  best  men,  and  decided  to  select 
the  worst  she  could  find ;  the  worst,  at  least,  physically 
and  morally. 

True,  he  always  looked  a  gentleman,  even  when  he  was 
soaked  in  brandy  and  gin  as  the  wick  of  a  tea-kettle  is 
soaked  in  spirits  of  wine.  Cocky 's  hands,  Cocky's  profile, 
Cocky's  slow  soft  voice,  had  always  proclaimed  his  race, 
even  whilst  he  chaffed  a  cabman  whom  he  could  not  pay. 

True,  he  was  by  courtesy  Earl  of  Ken il worth,  and 
would  certainly  be,  if  he  outlived  his  father,  Duke  of  Ot- 
terbourne ;  but  then  he  was  besides  that  and  beyond  that 
to  all  his  world — Cocky,  and  a  more  disreputable  little 
sinner  than  Cocky  it  would  have  been  hard  to  find  in  the 
peerage  or  out  of  it. 

But  Cocky  "  suited  her  book " ;  and  to  the  horror  of 
her  own  family  and  the  amazement  of  his,  this  radiant 
debutante  selected  as  her  partner  for  life  this  little  drunk- 
ard, who  had  one  lung  already  gone  arid  who  formed  the 
whipping-boy  and  stalking-horse  of  every  Radical  news- 
paper in  Great  Britian. . 

At  a  garden  party  on  the  river  Lord  Kenilworth  showed 
himself  for  once  in  decent  society,  and  unfuddled  by  pick- 
me-ups  and  eye-openers.  He  walked  alone  with  the  beauty 
of  the  year  under  an  elm  avenue  by  the  waterside,  and 
this  was  their  conversation  : 

"  You  won't  expect  much  of  me  ? "  he  said,  with  his 
glass  in  his  eye,  looking  vaguely  down  the  river.  "  My 
wretched  health,  you  know;  er — there's  one  good  thing 
about  it  for  you — I  may  kick  over  the  bucket  any  day ; 
one  lung  gone,  you  know." 


THE  NASSARENE8.  47 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  companion ;  "  I've  always  lieard  so. 
But  you'll  let  me  hang  on  my  own  hook,  drive  my  own 
team,  won't  you  ?  " 

Cocky  nodded.  He  perfectly  understood  the  allegorical 
phrases. 

44  Oh,  Lord,  yes,"  he  made  answer.  "I'm  a  very  easy- 
going fellow.  Take  my  own  way  and  let  other  people 
take  theirs." 

"  I  warn  you  I  shall  take  mine,"  said  the  young  beauty 
— she  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes.  Cocky's  own  pale, 
drowsy  eyes  looked  back  into  hers  with  so  cynical  a  smile 
in  them  that  for  once  she  was  disconcerted. 

"Lord,  what'll  that  matter  to  me?"  he  responded  can- 
didly. "  I  only  marry  to  make  the  Pater  come  down  with 
the  flimsy.  We  shall  have  to  agree  over  financial  ques- 
tions, you  and  I,  that's  all.  Most  married  people  only 
meet  over  the  accounts,  you  know." 

The  young  lady  laughed. 

"Very  well,  then.  If  you  see  it  in  that  sensible  light, 
we'll  say  it's  concluded." 

Cocky  had  a  gleam  of  conscience  in  his  brandy-soaked 
soul.  "  You  might  do  better,  you  know,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  You're  awfully  fetching  and  you're  very  young,  and  I'm 
— well,  I'm  a  bad  lot — and — and  wretched  health,  you 
know." 

"  I  know ;  but  you  suit  me,"  said  his  companion  with 
brevity.  "  I  shall  have  the  jewels,  sha'n't  I  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I've  spoken  to  the  Pater ;  he'll  let  you  have 
'em" 

"  Tope  la  done  !  "  she  said  frankly,  and  she  held  out  her 
pretty  gloved  right  hand.  Cocky  respectfully  kissed  the 
tips  of  her  fingers.  Then  he  grinned. 

"  Let's  go  and  ask  the  Pater's  blessing !  He's  over 
there  with  the  Princess." 

"  The  devil  take  her  if  she  hasn't  got  some  card  up  her 
sleeve  that  she  don't  show  me,"  he  thought  as  he  con- 
tinued to  walk  on  beside  her.  "  But  she's  awfully  fetch- 
ing, and  she'll  be  great  fun,  and  the  Pater  will  think  I'm 
reforming,  and  he'll  come  down  with  the  blunt,  and  what 
a  wax  Beric'll  be  in  !  " 

Beric  was  his  next  brother,  Aiberic  Orme. 


48  THE 

Meantime  tlie  lovely  and  youthful  creature,  who  brushed 
the  grass  with  her  bronze  kid  boots  beside  him,  pursued 
similar  reflections. 

"  He  don't  look  as  if  he'd  live  a  year;  and  he's  too  far 
gone  to  bother  me  much,  and  such  a  cretin  as  that  Harry 
won't  mind,  and  the  vulture's  egg  is  worth  a  little  worry." 

Her  relatives,  and  especially  her  eldest  brother,  were 
horrified  by  her  decision ;  but  their  persuasions  and  their 
entreaties  were  as  ineffectual  as  their  condemnation. 

"  He  will  let  me  do  as  I  like,  and  I  shall  have  the  vul- 
ture's egg,"  she  invariably  answered.  The  vulture's  egg 
was  a  great  diamond,  so  called,  which,  while  it  had  been 
in  the  possession  of  each  succeeding  Duchess  of  Otter- 
bourne,  had  rendered  her  the  envied  of  all  her  sex.  One 
of  the  family,  present  at  the  battle  of  Plassy,  as  a  volun- 
teer, had  taken  it  from  the  turban  of  a  native  prince 
whom  he  had  slain.  It  was  a  yellow  diamond  of  great 
size  and  effulgence ;  and  if  she  married  Cocky  she  could, 
she  hoped,  wear  it  at  once,  as  his  mother  had  been  dead 
many  years. 

"  You  marry  that  little  wretch  for  the  sake  of  that  looted 
jewel!"  said  her  brother  Hurstmanceaux,  furious. 

"  Many  people  don't  marry  anything  half  as  nice  as  a 
jewel,"  she  replied  calmly,  and  she  persisted  and  did  give 
her  hand  to  the  sickly  little  man  with  a  classic  profile  and 
a  ruined  constitution,  of  whom  his  own  father  was 
ashamed. 

Cocky  was  a  slight,  pale,  feminine-looking  person,  with 
very  light  eyes,  which  were  usually  without  any  expres- 
sion at  all  in  them,  but  now  and  then  at  rare  intervals 
could  flash  with  a  steely  sharpness.  His  wife  knew  those 
electric  flashes  of  those  colorless  orbs,  and  was  as  afraid 
of  them  as  it  was  possible  to  the  intrepid  nature  of  a 
Courcy  of  Faldon  to  be  ever  afraid. 

Cocky,  however,  possessed  some  excellent  qualities. 
Other  men  were  garrulous  and  confidential  after  drink- 
ing; but  the  more  Cocky  drank  the  more  wary  and  the 
more  silent  he  became.  The  tacit  compact  they  made  on 
that  day  of  their  betrothal,  when  they  had  walked  beside 
the  Thames  together,  was  never  broken  on  her  side  or  his. 
They  never  interfered  with  each  other,  and  they  were  at 


THE  HASSARENE8.  49 

times  almost  cordial  allies  when  it  was  a  question  of  play- 
ing into  each  other's  hands  against  some  detested  third 
person,  or  of  deriving  some  mutual  advantage  from  some 
mutual  concessions. 

He  usually  let  her  have  her  own  way  as  she  had  stipu-^ 
latedj  for  it  was  the  easiest  and  most  profitable  way  for 
himself. 

He  was  very  lazy  and  wholly  unscrupulous.  Many 
thousands  of  pounds  of  good  money  had  been  spent  on  his 
education  ;  tutors  of  the  best  intellect  and  the  best  morals 
had  trained  him  from  seven  to  twenty-one :  his  father, 
though,  a  vain  man,  was  of  immaculate  honor;  every  kind 
of  inducement  and  pressure  was  put  on  him  to  be  a  worthy 
representative  of  a  noble  name  ;  and  nature  had  given  him 
plenty  of  brains.  Yet,  so  pigheaded  is  human  nature,  or 
so  faulty  is  the  English  system  of  patrician  education,  that 
Cocky,  for  all  practical  result  to  his  bringing  up,  might 
have  been  reared  in  a  taproom  and  have  matriculated  in  a 
thieves'  quarter. 

"  Queer,  monstrous  queer,"  thought  his  father  often, 
with  an  agony  of  irritation  and  regret.  "  Train  a  child  in 
the  way  he  should  go  and  hang  me  if  he  won't  go  just 
t'other  way  to  spite  you." 

Cocky  was  a  very  old  child  at  the  time  of  his  marriage ; 
he  was  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  with  his  thin,  fair  hair 
turning  very  grey,  and  one  lung  nearly  gone  as  he  had 
declared ;  but  he  did  not  evince  the  slightest  desire  to  re- 
form, and  he  took  money  in  all  ways,  good,  bad,  and  in- 
different, in  which  it  offered  itself  to  him. 

"  What  a  man  to  leave  behind  one ! "  thought  Otter- 
bourne  very  often,  with  real  shame  and  sorrow  at  his  heart. 

He  was  himself  a  very  good  man,  and  a  gentleman  to 
the  marrow  of  his  bones  ;  his  vanities  were  harmless,  and 
his  little  airs  of  youth  were  not  ridiculous  because  he  was 
still  very  handsome  and  well  preserved. 

By  what  horrible  fatality,  he  often  asked  himself,  was 
Cocky  the  heir  of  his  dukedom  ?  He  had  three  other  sons, 
all  men  of  admirable  conduct  and  health,  both  moral  and 
physical.  By  what  extraordinary  irony  and  brutality  of 
fate  had  his  eldest  son,  who  had  enjoyed  every  possible 
benefit  froip  early  training  and  good  influences,  become 
4 


50  THE  MASSABENES. 

what  he  was  ?  His  wife  had  been  a  saint,  and,  for  the 
first  ten  years  of  his  life  Cocky  had  been  as  pretty  and 
promising  a  boy  as  ever  rejoiced  the  heart  of  parents. 

She  had  given  birth  to  the  four  charming  little  children 
whose  names  were  recorded >i,n  Burke,  and  who  were  ad- 
mired by  all  the  women  they  met  when  they  toddled  along 
the  sunny  side  of  the  Park,  or  drove  in  their  basket  car- 
riage behind  their  two  sleek  donkeys  with  Jack  holding 
the  reins  and  a  groom  walking  at  the  asses'  heads. 

They  were  pretty  babies,  dear  little  men  and  women, 
with  big  black  eyes  and  golden  masses  of  hair,  and  skins 
as  soft  and  as  fair  as  blush-roses ;  she  was  fond  of  them 
but  they  could  not  have  much  space  in  her  life,  it  had 
been  already  so  very  full  when  they  had  come  into  it. 
She  had  never  a  moment  to  herself  unless  it  were  the  time 
of  meditation  which  her  bath  gave  her,  or  the  minutes  in 
which,  alone  in  her  little  brougham,  she  rushed  from  one 
house  to  another. 

Cocky  went  about  with  his  wife  quite  often  enough  to 
set  a  good  example.  Not  into  society  indeed,  Cocky  had 
a  society  of  his  own  to  which  he  was  faithful,  but  he  was 
always  there  when  wanted — in  the  London  house,  in  the 
country  houses,  in  the  Paris  hotel,  at  the  German  bath — • 
he  was  always  there  in  the  background,  a  shadowy  pres- 
ence letting  himself  in  and  out  with  noiseless  and  discreet 
footsteps,  a  permanent  sanction  and  indisputable  guaran- 
tee that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  and  that  Lady  Kenil- 
worth,  with  the  big  diamond  of  his  House  on  her  fair 
bosom,  could  attend  a  Drawing-room  or  a  State  ball  when- 
ever she  chose.  Ho  really  kept  his  part  of  the  compact 
with  a  loyalty  which  better  men  might  have  not  shown, 
for  better  men  would  not  have  had  his  inducements  or  his 
patience  to  do  so. 

Their  financial  embarrassments  were  chronic,  but  never 
interfered  with  their  expenditure.  Money  was  always  got 
somehow  for  anything  that  they  really  wished  to  do. 
They  were  at  all  places  in  their  due  season,  and  their  own 
houses  never  saw  them  except  when  there  was  a  house- 
party  to  be  entertained,  or  a  royal  visit  to  be  received. 
True  Cocky  on  such  occasions  was  usually  indisposed  and 
unseen,  but  that  fact  did  not  greatly  matter  to  anyone. 


THE  MAS8ARENE8.  51 

It  was  an  understood  thing  in  society  that  he  had  motor 
ataxy,  a  very  capricious  disease  as  everyone  knows ;  put- 
ting you  in  purgatory  one  day  and  letting  you  sup  with 
ballet-girls  the  next.  And  Cocky  had  this  useful  faculty 
of  the  well-born  and  naturally  well-bred  man  that  he 
could,  when  he  chose,  pull  himself  out  of  the  slough,  re- 
member his  manners,  and  behave  as  became  his  race.  But 
it  bored  him  excruciatingly,  and  the  effort  was  brief. 

The  marriage,  on  a  whole,  if  they  had  not  been  contin- 
ually in  difficulties  about  money,  might  fairly  have  been 
called  as  happy  as  most  marriages  are.  When  they  quar- 
reled it  was  in  private,  and  when  they  combined  they 
were  dangerous  to  their  families. 

She  knew  that  she  was  never  likely  ever  again  to  find 
anyone  quite  so  reasonable,  quite  so  useful  as  he. 

He  had,  immediately  on  their  marriage,  been  on  very 
good  terms  with  her  friend  Harry ;  and  when  there  was 
later  on  question  of  other  friends  beside  Harry  he  did  not 
feel  half  so  much  irritation  at  the  fact  as  did  Harry  him- 
self. 

He  had  learned  what  card  it  had  been  which  she  had 
kept  up  her  sleeve  when  she  had  spoken  with  such  appar- 
ent frankness  as  she  had  walked  along  the  grass  path  by 
the  Thames.  But  he  had  never  made  a  fuss  about  it.  He 
really  thought  Harry  a  very  good  fellow  though  "  deuced 
poor,  deuced  poor,"  he  said  sometimes  shaking  his  head. 

Harry,  too,  was  useful  and  unobtrusive,  always  ready 
to  get  theatre  stalls,  or  make  up  a  supper  party,  or  row 
the  stablemen  if  the  horses  got  out  of  form,  or  go  on  be- 
forehand to  see  the  right  rooms  were  taken  at  Homburg 
or  Biarritz,  or  Nice.  A  good-natured  fellow,  too,  was 
Harry ;  sort  of  fellow  who  would  pawn  his  last  shirt  for 
you  if  he  liked  you.  Cocky  always  nodded  to  him,  and 
used  his  cigar-case,  and  sauntered  with  him  for  appear- 
ance sake  down  Pall  Mall  or  Piccadilly  in  the  most  ami- 
cable manner  possible. 

Cocky  was  a  nursery  nickname  which  had  gone  with 
him  to  Eton,  and  from  Eton  into  the  world,  and  Kenny 
was  an  abbreviation  of  his  courtesy  title  which  was  un- 
fortunately in  use  even  amongst  the  cabmen,  policemen, 
crossing-sweepers,  and  match-sellers  of  that  district  of 


52  THE  HASSAEENES. 

Mayfair  where  he  dwelt  whilst  awaiting  the  inheritance 
of  Otterbourne  House. 

"  Jump  in,  boy,"  said  the  driver  of  a  hansom  to  a  tele- 
graph lad,  who  had  hailed  him  at  the  same  time  as  Lord 
Kenilworth.  "Jump  in,  a  growler's  good  enough  for 
Kenny.  He  wants  to  get  slow  over  the  ground  to  give 
my  lady  time  with  her  fancy  man." 

There  was  something  about  him  which  made  all  manly 
men,  of  whatever  class,  from  cabdrivers  to  his  own  broth- 
ers and  brother-in-law,  perpetually  desire  to  kick  him. 
He  knew  that  men  wished  to  kick  him ;  and  he  did  not 
try  to  kick  them  in  return.  He  wore  his  degradation 
smilingly,  as  if  it  were  an  Order. 

"  That  is  the  utterly  hopeless  thing  about  him,"  said 
his  father  once. 

The  Ormes  had  always  been  great  people — true,  staunch, 
polished  gentlemen,  holding  a  great  stake  in  the  country, 
and  holding  it  worthily,  riding  straight,  and  living  honor- 
ably. By  what  caprice  of  chance,  what  irony  of  fate,  had 
this  stalwart  and  high-principled  race  produced  such  a 
depraved  and  degenerate  being  as  Cocky  ? 

"  There  must  be  something  very  wrong  in  our  social 
system  that  so  many  of  our  men  of  position  are  no  sounder 
than  rotten  apples,"  the  duke  said  once  to  a  person,  who 
replied  that  there  were  black  sheep  in  all  countries. 
"  Yes,  but  our  black  sheep  are  labeled  prize  rams,"  replied 
Otterbourne. 

The  four  little  children  in  the  nurseries  did  not  give 
him  much  consolation.  The  gossip  of  society  hung  over 
them  like  a  cloud  in  his  sight,  and  there  were  none  of 
those  dark  sleepy  eyes  in  his  family  portraits  at  Staghurst. 

"  There  are  no  black-eyed  Ormes  in  our  family  por- 
traits," he  said  once  to  his  eldest  son ;  and  Cocky 's  face 
wore  for'  an  instant  a  droll  expression,  and  his  left  eye 
winked.  But  it  was  only  for  an  instant. 

"  There's  a  legend,"  he  said,  rolling  a  cigarette  ;  "  Rich- 
ard Orme  married  a  gipsy  in  William  Rufus's  time.  Lord, 
who  shall  say  to  where  the  brats  throw  back  ?  " 

"Who  indeed?"  said  the  duke  with  a  significance 
which  penetrated  even  the  Cognac-sodden  brains  of  his 
heir. 


THE  MASSAKENES.  53 

But  the  legend  did  really  exist,  and  when  the  children's 
mother  heard  of  the  gipsy  of  William  Rufus's  time  she 
thought  the  legend  a  very  interesting  one  and  very  use- 
ful. 

But  who  could  blame  Cocky 's  wife  for  anything?  Be- 
sides, the  duke  was  of  that  old  English  temper,  now 
grown  so  rare,  which  thought  dishonor  carried  into  a  law 
court  was  only  made  much  worse  by  the  process,  and  was 
painfully  conscious  that  Kenilworth,  although  he  looked 
like  a  gentleman,  spoke  like  one,  moved  like  one,  and 
wore  his  clothes  like  one,  was  in  many  sorrowful  respects 
a  cad.  But  a  clever  cad !  Yes,  Cocky  was  clever  by  na- 
ture, if  not  by  study ;  that  was  perhaps  the  very  worst 
part  of  the  whole  matter.  He  could  play  the  fool — did 
play  it  almost  perpetually — but  he  had  not  been  born  a 
fool. 

There  was  not  even  that  excuse  for  him. 

He  was  a  man  of  considerable  intelligence,  whom  indo- 
lence, depravity,  and  disinclination  to  take  trouble  had 
made  approach  very  nearly  to  an  idiot.  But,  as  his  mind 
had  odd  nooks  and  corners  in  it,  which  contained  out-of- 
the-way  scraps  of  learning  sometimes  profound,  so  his 
character  had,  occasionally,  spasms  in  it  of  resolve  and  of 
volition,  which  showed  that  he  might  have  been  a  differ- 
ent person  to  the  mere  nonentity  and  lounger  that  he  was, 
if  he  had  been  forced  to  work  for  his  living.  As  it  was 
he  was  the  butt  of  his  friends,  the  torture  of  his  father, 
the  ridicule  of  his  wife,  and  the  favorite  whipping-boy  of 
the  press  and  public,  when  they  wanted  indirectly  to  slate 
a  prince  or  directly  to  pillory  an  order.  As  a  gun  loaded 
to  the  muzzle,  which  could  at  any  moment  be  discharged 
with  deadly  effect  at  the  Upper  House,  he  was  unspeaka- 
bly dear  to  the  Radicals. 

One  day,  in  a  Hyde  Park  meeting  met  to  howl  against 
the  Lords,  Cocky,  who  was  riding  his  cob  down  the  road 
past  the  Achilles,  heard  his  own  name  spoken,  and  his 
fitness  for  an  hereditary  legislator  irreverently  denied. 
He  stopped  to  listen,  putting  his  glass  in  his  eye  to  see  his 
adversaries. 

"  My  good  people,  you  are  all  wrong,"  he  called  to  them 
at  a  pause  in  the  oration.  "I'm  a  commoner.  Plain 


54  THE  MASSAEENES. 

John  Ornie,  without  a  shilling  to  bless  myself  with.  Don't 
suppose  I  shall  ever  live  to  get  into  the  Lords.  The 
Pater's  lungs  are  much  sounder  than  mine,  and  his  poli- 
tics too ;  for  he'd  trounce  you  all  round,  and  give  each  of 
you  a  horse-drench." 

So  oddly  constituted  are  mobs,  that  this  one  laughed 
and  cheered  him  for  the  speech,  and  Cocky,  much  di- 
verted, got  off  his  cob  in  Hamilton  Place,  at  the  Batche- 
lor's  Club,  and  went  to  refresh  his  throat  with  a  glass  of 
brandy. 

It  was  his  sole  appearance  in  public  life. 

"  Told  'em  you'd  give  each  of  'em  a  horse-drench,"  he 
said  with  a  faint  chuckle,  the  next  time  he  saw  his  father. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Otterbourne ;  "  and  if  they  break  my 
windows  the  next  time  they're  out,  will  you  pay  for  the 
glazier  ?  " 

"  Never  pay  for  anything,"  said  Cocky,  solemnly  and 
truthfully.  And  it  was  probably  the  only  truthful  word 
that  he  had  spoken  for  many  years. 


THE  MASSARENES.  55 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  RONNIE,"  said  Mouse  to  her  elder  brother  one  morn- 
ing, "I  don't  think  I've  ever  told  you  about  those  new 
people  to  whom  Gerald  sold  Vale  Royal " 

"  To  whom  you  sold  Vale  Royal/'  said  Lord  Hurst- 
manceaux  with  curt  significance. 

She  colored  ;  she  did  not  like  her  brother's  rough  and 
blunt  ways  of  putting  things,  though  it  was  a  Courcy 
habit  into  which  she  herself  lapsed  in  cynical  and  im- 
prudent moments. 

She  let  the  subject  pass,  however,  and  continued  as  if 
she  had  not  heard  the  correction. 

"  They  are  such  fun ;  you  can't  imagine  how  delight- 
ful they  are ;  and  they  have  made  Harrenden  House  a 
paradise.  When  I  came  from  Cairo  they  were  already  in 
it.  Old  Prince  Khris  had  done  it  all." 

"  There  are  a  good  many  such  dollar-lined  paradises  in 
London,"  said  Hurstmanceaux.  "  I'd  rather  you  didn't 
go  into  them.  But,  of  course,  you  do  as  you  like." 

"  Of  course  I  do  !  Old  Khris  arranged  the  house  for 
them." 

Hurstmanceaux  laughed. 

"  Khris  and  you !  They  will  be  warm  people  indeed  if 
they  have  even  a  paire  pour  le  soif  left  for  themselves  be- 
tween you  two.  Poor  devils  !  I  think  I'll  go  and  give 
them  the  lay  of  the  course." 

"  My  dear  Ronnie !  How  absurd  you  are.  If  any- 
body heard  you  they  might  think  j^ou  were  in  earnest." 

Hurstmanceaux  looked  at  his  sister  with  a  shrewd,  ap- 
preciative scorn  in  his  eyes. 

"  They  might,"  he  said  gravely.  "  I  am  usually  in 
earnest,  my  dear." 

"I  know  you  are  and  it  is  a  horrid  thing  to  be,"  she 
replied  with  petulance.  "  Earnest  people  are  always  such 
bores,"  Then,  remembering  that  she  would  not  produce 


56  THE  HASSABENES. 

the  effect  she  desired  by  abusing  him,  she  changed  her 
tone. 

"Dearest  Ronald,  these  persons  are  coming  here  to- 
morrow night.     Let  me  present  them  to  you  ;  and  if  you 
would  but  say  a  good  word  for  them  in  the  world- 
He  was  silent. 

"  I  think,  you  know,"  she  murmured  softly,  "  that  as 
they  bought  Gerald's  place  they  naturally  rather  look  to 
us  all  to  make  things  pleasant  for  them." 

Hurstmanceaux  put  the  white  small  ringed  finger  off 
his  coat  with  a  gesture  which  had  sternness  in  it. 

"  My  dear  child,  you  are  Delilah  to  all  men  born  of 
Adam  ;  but  not  to  me,  not  to  me,  my  child,  because  you 
are  my  sister.  The  Lord  be  praised  for  His  mercies !  If 
you  had  not  been  my  sister  I  should  have  had  no  strength 
against  you  probably.  As  it  is,  I  won't  keep  bad  com- 
pany, my  dear,  even  to  please  you." 

"  Bad  company !     They  are  most  estimable  people." 
44  I  am  happy  to  hear  so,  since  you  let  them  in  here." 
44  But  everybody  is  going  to  know  them." 
"  Then  why  should  you  care  about  my  knowing  them 
too?" 

"  That  is  just "  began  his  sister,  and  paused,  scan- 
ning the  little  mouse  embroidered  on  her  handkerchief. 

"  Take  your  eyes  off  that  bit  of  gossamer  and  look  at 
me,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  severely.  "  You  do  this  kind 
of  thing.  Cocky  does  it.  You  make  Gerald  do  it.  But 
I'll  be  damned,  my  dear,  if  you  make  me." 

She  was  mute,  distressed,  irritated,  not  seeing  very  well 
what  to  say  or  resent. 

"  Get  up  a  firm  with  old  Khris,"  continued  her  brother ; 
44  Khris  and  Kenilworth  ;  it  will  run  very  nicely  and  take 
the  town  like  wildfire ;  I  am  convinced  that  it  will ;  but 
Hurstmanceaux  as  4  Co.' — no  thank  you." 

44  You  don't  even  hear  me,"  said  his  sister  rather  pite- 
ously. 

44 1  know  all  you're  going  to  say,"  he  replied.  44  You 
mean  to  float  these  people,  and  you'll  do  it.  You'll  get 
'em  to  State  concerts,  and  you'll  get  'em  to  Marlborough 
House  garden  parties,  and  you'll  get  'em  to  political 
houses,  and  you'll  ram  'em  down  all  our  throats,  and  take 


THE  MASSARENES.  57 

the  princes  to  dine  with  'em  ;  I  know  all  that ;  it's  always 
the  same  programme ;  and  the  he-beast  will  get  a  baron- 
etcy, and  the  she-beast  will  get  to  Hatfield,  and  you'll  run 
them  just  as  Barnum  used  to  run  his  giants  and  dwarfs, 
and  you'll  make  a  pot  by  it  as  Barnum  did.  Only  leave 
me  out  of  the  thing,  if  you  please." 

"  Why  shouldn't  you  be  the  sleeping  partner  ?  "  said  his 
sister  jestingly,  but  with  a  side  glance  of  her  lovely  eyes 
which  had  a  timid  and  keen  interrogation  in  it.  "  No- 
body 'd  be  the  wiser,  and  your  word  has  such  weight." 

44  Don't  make  that  sort  of  suggestion,  my  dear,  even  in 
joke.  Gerald  has  helped  you  ;  I  am  not  Gerald.  You've 
made  him  dance  to  your  tune  through  a  lot  of  mud,  but 
you  won't  make  me.  There  are  enough  of  the  family  in 
this  shabby  kind  of  business  as  it  is." 

44  Oh,  Ronald! " 

"  You  see,  Sourisette,"  he  added,  "  you  are  always  tell- 
ing me  that  I  wear  my  clothes  too  long  ;  you've  often  seen 
me  in  an  old  coat,  in  a  shockingly  old  coat ;  but  you 
never  saw  me  in  an  ill-cut  one.  Well,  I  like  my  acquaint- 
ances to  be  like  my  clothes.  They  may  be  out  at  elbows, 
but  I  must  have  'em  well  cut." 

Lady  Kenilworth  gazed  at  her  pocket-handkerchief  for 
a  few  minutes  in  disturbed  silence. 

44  Is  that  the  tone  you  mean  to  take  about  my  new 
people  ?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

44  My  dearest  Sourisette,  I  don't  take  any  tone.     These 

richards  from  the  Northwest  are  nothing  to  me.     You 

are  taking  them  up,  and  getting  Carrie  to  take  them  up, 

,  because  you  mean  to  get  lots  of  good  things  out  of  them. 

|  No   one   can   possibly   know   4a   bull-dozing   boss'  from 

North    Dakota  for   any   other  reason   than   to   plunder 

him." 

44  Oh,  Ronald  !  What  coarse  and  odious  things  you 
say!" 

Her  exclamation  was  beseeching  and  indignant ;  a  little 
flush  of  color  went  over  her  fair  cheeks.  44  You  shouldn't 
be  so  hard  upon  one,"  she  added.  "Some  poet  has  said 
that  poverty  gives  us  strange  bed-fellows." 

44  We  need  never  lie  down  on  the  bed  ;  we  can  lie  in  our 
own  straw." 


58  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  But  if  we  have  used  up  all  our  straw  ?" 

"  Then    we   can   go  out  of  doors  and  sleep  a  la  belle 


"And  the  rural  constable  will  pass  by  with  his  Ian- 
thorn,  and  wake  us  up,  and  run  us  in  !  Oh,  my  dear 
Ronald,  you  don't  know  what  it  is  to  want  a  sovereign 
every  moment.  You're  unmarried,  and  you  shoot  with  a 
keeper's  gun,  and  you  yacht  in  an  old  wooden  tub,  arid 
you  lounge  about  all  over  the  world  with  your  places 
shut  up,  and  your  town-house  let  ;  what  can  you  tell, 
what  can  you  dream,  of  the  straits  Cocky  and  I  are  put 
to  every  single  minute  of  our  lives  ?  " 

"  Because  you  won't  pull  up  and  lead  sensible  lives," 
said  Hurstmanceaux.  "  You  must  always  be  in  the  swim, 
always  at  the  most  ruinously  expensive  places.  Can't 
you  exist  without  tearing  over  Europe  and  bits  of  Africa 
every  year?  Did  our  forefathers  want  Cairene  winters  ? 
Couldn't  they  fish  and  shoot,  and  dance  and  flirt,  without 
Norway  and  the  Riviera?  Wasn't  their  own  county- 
town  enough  for  them  ?  Weren't  their  lungs  capable  of 
breathing  without  Biskra?  Weren't  they  quite  as  good 
sportsmen  as  we  are  with  only  their  fowling-pieces? 
Quite  as  fine  ladies  as  you  are,  though  they  saw  to  their 
still-rooms  ?  " 

"  Their  women  look  very  nice  in  the  Romneys  and 
Reynolds,"  said  Mouse.  "  But  you  might  as  well  ask  why 
we  don't  go  from  Derby  to  Bath  in  a  coach  and  six.  Autre 
temps  autre  moeurs.  There  is  nothing  else  to  be  said. 
Would  you  yourself  use  your  grandfather's  gun  ?  Why 
should  I  see  to  my  still-room  ? 

"  I  do  wish,"  she  continued,  "  that  you  would  talk 
about  what  you  understand.  I  will  send  you  the  bill  for 
the  children's  boots  and  shoes,  just  to  show  you  what  it 
costs  one  merely  to  have  them  properly  shod." 

"Poor  little  souls!"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  with  his 
smile  which  people  called  cynical.  "I  don't  think  they 
are  the  heaviest  of  your  expenses.  I  believe  you  could 
live  with  the  whole  lot  of  them  in  a  cottage  at  Broadstairs 
or  Herne  Bay  all  the  year  round  for  about  what  your 
hunting  mares  cost  you  in  one  season." 

"  Don't   be  an    ass,    Ronald,"   said   his  sister  crossly; 


THE ' MASSARENES.  59 

cc  what  is  the  use  of  talking  of  things  that  nobody  can  do, 
any  more  than  they  can  wear  their  fustian  clothes  or 
wooden  shoes?  You  will  know  what  I  mean  some  day 
when  you're  married.  We  are  worse  off  than  the  match- 
sellers,  than  the  crossing-sweepers.  They  can  do  as  they 
like,  but  we  can't." 

44  Life  isn't  all  skittles  and  swipes,"  observed  Hurst- 
manceaux.  "  You  always  seem  to  think  it  is." 

But  she,  disregarding  him,  went  on  in  her  wrath: 

"  It  is  a  thousand  times  worse  to  be  poor  in  our  world 
than  to  be  beggars  on  the  high  road.  If  they  keep  in  with 
the  police  they're  all  right,  but  our  police  are  all  round 
us  every  minute  of  our  lives,  spying  to  see  if  we  have  a 
man  less  in  the  anterooms,  a  hoof  less  in  the  stables,  if 
we  have  the  same  gown  on,  or  the  same  houses  open ;  if 
we've  given  up  any  club,  any  habit,  any  moors,  any  shoot- 
ing ;  if  the  prince  talks  as  much  to  us  as  usual,  or  the 
princess  asks  us  to  drive  with  her ;  if  we  go  away  for  the 
winter  to  shut  up  a  place,  or  make  lungs  an  excuse  for 
getting  away  to  avoid  Scotland  ;  they  are  eternally  star- 
ing, commenting,  annotating,  whispering  over  all  we  do  ; 
we  can  never  get  away  from  them  ;  and  we  daren't  re- 
trench a  halfpenny's  worth,  because  if  we  did,  the  trades- 
people would  think  we  were  ruined  and  all  the  pack 
would  be  down  on  us." 

"  There  is  some  truth  in  that,  my  poor  Mouse,  I  must 
allow,"  said  her  brother  with  a  shade  of  unwilling  sym- 
pathy in  his  tone.  "But  it's  a  beggarly  rotten  system  to 
live  your-  lives  out  on,  and  I  think  Broadstairs  would  be 
the  better  part,  if  you  could  only  make  up  your  mind  to 
it.  It  would  be  only  one  effort  instead  of  a  series  of 
efforts,  and  the  cheap  trippers  wouldn't  be  worse  than  the 
Mastodons ;  at  least  you  wouldn't  have  to  do  so  much  for 
them." 

"  Massarenes,"  said  his  sister  with  an  impatient  dive 
for  the  silver  poker,  and  another  dive  with  it  at  the  fire. 
"  The  name  isn't  such  a  bad  name.  It  might  have  been 
Healy,  it  might  have  been  Murphy." 

"  It  might  have  even  been  Biggar,"  replied  Hurstman- 
ceaux,  amused.  "  Possibilities  in  the  ways  of  horror  are 
infinite  when  we  once  begin  opening  our  doors  to  people 


80  THE  MASSARENES. 

whom  nobody  knows.  Practically,  there  need  be  no  end 
to  it." 

Mouse,  leaning  softly  against  her  brother,  with  her 
hand  caressing  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  said  sweetly  and  in- 
sidiously : 

"  There  is  an  only  daughter,  Ronald — an  only  child." 

"  Indeed  I  " 

"  She  will  be  an  immense  heiress,"  sighed  his  sister. 
"  Everybody  will  be  after  her." 

"  Everybody  bar  one,"  said  her  brother. 

"  And  why  bar  one  ?  " 

His  face  darkened.  "Don't  talk  nonsense!"  he  said 
curtly.  "I  don't  like  you  when  you  are  impertinent.  It 
is  a  pity  Cocky  ever  saw  you ;  the  Massarene  alliance 
would  have  suited  him  down  to  the  ground." 

"  She  would  have  been  millions  of  miles  too  good  for 
him  ! "  said  Cocky 's  wife,  with  boundless  contempt. 
"  They  don't  want  merely  rank  ;  they  want  character." 

"  My  dear  Mouse,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  "  the  other 
day  a  young  fellow  went  into  a  cafe  in  Paris,  had  a  good 
soup,  fish,  and  roti,  and  three  cups  of  coffee.  An  unfeel- 
ing landlord  arrested  him  as  he  was  about  to  go  off  with- 
out paying.  The  people  in  the  streets  pitied  him,  on  the 
whole,  but  they  thought  the  three  cups  of  coffee  too 
much.  '  Ca  c'est  trop  fort  de  cafe,'  said  a  workman  in  a 
blouse  to  me.  In  a  similar  manner,  allow  me  to  remark 
that  if  your  new  friends,  in  addition  to  the  smart  dinner 
of  rank,  require  the  strong  coffee  of  character,  they  are 
too  exacting.  The  people  in  the  streets  won't  let  them 
have  both." 

Lady  Kenil worth  felt  very  angry  at  this  impudent 
anecdote,  and  pulled  to  pieces  some  narcissus  standing 
near  her  in  an  old  china  bowl. 

"The  analogy  don't  run  on  all  fours,"  she  said  petu- 
lantly. "  My  people  can  pay.  You  have  a  right  to  any- 
thing if  you  only  pay  enough  for  it." 

"  Most  things — not  everything  quite,"  said  her  brother 
indolently,  as  he  took  up  his  hat  and  cane  and  whistled 
his  collie  dog,  who  was  playing  with  the  Blenheims. 
"  Not  everything  quite — yet,"  he  repeated,  as  if  the  dec- 
laration refreshed  him.  "  You  have  not  the  smallest 


THE  MASSAEENES.  61 

effect  upon  me,  and  you  will  not  present  your  proteges  to 
me — remember  that,  once  for  all.  Adieu!  " 

Then  he  touched  her  lightly  and  affectionately  on  her 
fair  hair,  shook  himself  like  a  dog  who  has  been  in  dirty 
water,  and  left  her. 

Mouse,  who  was  not  a  patient  or  resigned  woman  by 
nature,  flashed  a  furious  glance  after  him  from  the  soft 
shade  of  her  dark  eyelashes,  and  her  white  teeth  gnawed 
restlessly  and  angrily  the  red  and  lovely  under-lip  be* 
neath  them.  He  could  have  done  so  much  if  he  would  ! 
His  opinion  was  always  listened  to,  and  his  recommenda- 
tion was  so  rarely  given  that  it  always  carried  great 
weight.  He  would  have  told  her  that  they  were  so  re- 
spected precisely  because  he  did  not  do  such  things  as 
this  which  she  wanted  him  to  do. 

He  was  a  very  tall  and  extremely  handsome  man,  with 
a  debonnair  and  careless  aspect,  and  a  distinguished  way 
of  wearing  his  clothes  which  made  their  frequent  shabbi- 
ness  look  ultra  chic.  The  Courcy  beauty  had  been  a 
thing  of  note  for  many  generations,  and  he  had  as  full  a 
share  of  it  as  his  sister,  whom  he  strongly  resembled.  He 
was  fourteen  years  older  than  she,  and  she  had  long  been 
accustomed  to  regard  him  as  the  head  of  her  House,  for 
he  had  succeeded  to  the  earldom  when  a  schoolboy,  and 
she  had  never  known  her  father.  He  had  tried  his  best 
to  alter  the  ways  of  the  Kenilworth  establishment,  but  he 
had  failed.  If  he  talked  seriously  to  his  sister,  it  always 
ended  in  his  paying  some  bill ;  if  he  talked  seriously  to 
his  brother-in-law,  it  always  ended  in  his  being  asked  to 
settle  some  affair  about  an  actress  or  a  dispute  in  a  pot- 
house. They  both  used  him — used  him  incessantly  ;  but 
they  never  attended  to  his  counsels  or  his  censure.  They 
both  considered  that  as  he  was  unmarried,  spent  little,  and 
was  esteemed  stingy,  they  really  only  did  him  a  service  in 
making  him  " bleed"  occasionally. 

"He's  such  a  close-fisted  prig,"  said  Lord  Kenilworth, 
and  his  wife  always  agreed  to  the  opinion. 

"  Ronnie  is  a  bore,"-  she  said,  "  he  is  always  asking 
questions.  If  anybody  wants  to  do  any  good  they  should 
do  it  with  their  eyes  shut,  and  their  mouths  shut ;  a  kind- 
ness is  no  kindness  at  all  if  it  is  made  the  occasion  for  an 


62  THE  MASSAREXES. 

inquisitorial  sermon.  Ronnie  does  not  often  refuse  one 
in  the  end,  but  he  is  always  asking  why  and  how  and 
what,  and  wanting  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  thing,  and 
it  is  never  anything  that  concerns  him.  If  he  would  just 
do  what  one  wants  and  say  nothing,  it  would  be  so  much 
nicer,  so  much  more  delicate;  I  cannot  endure  indelicacy." 

The  Kenilworths,  like  many  other  wedded  people,  had 
no  common  bond  whatever,  except  when  they  were  united 
against  somebody  else  ;  they  bickered,  sneered,  and  quar- 
reled whenever  they  were  by  any  rare  chance  alone,  but 
when  it  was  a  question  of  attacking  any  third  person  their 
solidarity  was  admirable.  Hurstmanceaux  seemed  to 
them  both  to  have  been  created  by  nature  and  law  to  be 
of  use  to  them,  to  carry  them  over  troublesome  places, 
and  to  lend  them  the  segis  of  his  unblemished  name  ;  but 
of  any  gratitude  to  him  neither  ever  dreamed ;  it  always 
seemed  to  them  that  he  did  next  to  nothing  for  them, 
though  if  the  little  folks  upstairs  had  roast  mutton  and 
sago  pudding,  and  if  the  servants  in  Stanhope  Street  got 
their  wages  with  any  regularity,  it  was  usually  wholly 
due  to  his  intervention. 

He  had  succeeded  to  heavily  encumbered  estates,  and 
the  years  of  his  minority,  though  they  had  done  something, 
had  not  done  much  toward  lessening  the  burden  which 
lay  on  the  title,  and  he  had  always  been  a  poor  man.  But 
now,  when  he  was  nearing  forty  years  of  age,  he  could 
say  that  he  was  a  free  one. 

To  obtain  such  freedom  it  had  required  much  self-denial 
and  philosophy,  and  he  had  incurred  much  abuse  in  his 
,  family  and  out  of  it,  and,  as  he  was  by  nature  careless  and 
'  generous,  the  restraint  upon  his  inclinations  had  been  at 
times  irksome  and  well-nigh  unendurable.  But  he  had 
adhered  to  the  plan  of  retrenchment  which  he  had  cut  out 
for  himself,  and  it  had  been  successful  in  releasing  him 
from  all  obligations  without  selling  a  rood  of  land  on  any 
estate,  or  cutting  any  more  timber  than  was  necessary  to 
the  health  of  the  woods  themselves.  He  was  called  "  the 
miser"  commonly  amongst  his  own  people;  but  he  did 
not  mind  the  nickname  ;  he  kept  his  hands  clean  and  his 
name  high,  which  was  more  than  do  all  his  contempora- 
ries and  compeers. 


THE  MASSARENES.  63 

When  lie  had  left  his  sister  this  morning,  and  had  got 
as  far  as  the  head  of  the  staircase,  his  heart  misgave  him. 
Poor  Mousie,  had  he  been  too  rough  on  her?  Did  she 
really  want  money  ?  He  turned  back  and  entered  the 
little  room  again  where  Lady  Kenilworth  was  sitting  be- 
fore the  hearth,  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  her  cheek  on  her 
hand,  her  blue  eyes  gazing  absently  on  the  fire. 

He  came  up  to  her  and  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  Sourisette !  Are  you  troubled  about 
money  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  always  am,  Ronnie,"  she  said  impa- 
tiently. "  It  is  chronic  with  us ;  it  always  will  be ;  even 
when  the  Poodle  goes  to  glory  it  will  be  hardly  any  bet- 
ter. You  know  that." 

The  Poodle  was  the  irreverent  nickname  given  to  the 
Duke  of  Otterbourne  by  his  eldest  son  and  that  son's  wife, 
on  account  of  his  fleecy-white  hair  and  his  bland  cere- 
monious manners  of  the  old  school,  at  which  they  saw  fit 
to  laugh  irreverently. 

44  My  poor  child  !  If  you  have  no  more  solid  resource 
than  to  decant  Poodle's  demise  your  prospects  look  blue ; 
I  always  tell  you  so.  Poodle  means  living  and  loving  on 
into  the  twentieth  century,  never  doubt  that." 

44 1  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Mouse  very  angrily.  "  He  will 
always  do  everything  which  can  by  any  possibility  most 
annoy  us." 

44  But  are  you  in  any  especial  difficulty  at  this  moment, 
Sourisette  ?  "  asked  her  brother  in  a  very  kind  and  tender 
tone  intended  to  invite  her  confidence. 

44  What  is  especial  with  other  people  is  chronic  with 
me,"  she  replied  pettishly.  "  My  worries  and  miseries 
are  as  eternal  as  Poodle's  youth  and  courtships." 

44  But  do  you  want  money — well,  more  than  usual?" 

44 1  always  want  it,"  replied  Mouse.  "  Everybody  always 
wants  it,  except  you." 

44 1  know  you  always  say  that.  I  want  it  very  much 
just  now.  But  if  it's  anything  for  the  children " 

44  You  are  a  model  uncle  out  of  a  fairy  book  !  No  ;  it  is 
not  for  the  mites;  they  get  their  bread  and  milk  and  mut- 
ton chops — as  yet.  It  is,  it  is — well,  if  you  really  care  to 
know,  these  people  are  horribly  rude  and  pressing,  and 


64  THE  MASSARENES. 

I  haven't  even  a  hundred  pounds  to  throw  them  as  a 
sop." 

She  leaned  back  toward  her  writing-table  which  stood 
beside  the  hearth,  and,  tossing  its  litter  of  paper  to  and 
fro,  took  from  the  chaos  a  letter  from  a  famous  firm  of 
Bond  Street  tradesmen,  and  gave  it  to  her  brother. 

"  As  he  is  in  the  mood  he  may  as  well  pay  some  thing," 
she  thought.  "  It  would  be  a  pity  not  to  bleed  the  miser 
when  one  can." 

Lord  Hurstmanceaux  ran  his  eyes  quickly  over  the  let- 
ter, and  a  pained  look  passed  over  his  face,  an  expression 
of  annoyance  and  regret. 

She  was  Kenilworth's  wife,  and  had  been  long  out  of 
her  brother's  guardianship,  but  it  hurt  him  to  think  that 
she  exposed  herself  to  these  insults,  these  importunities$ 
these  humiliations. 

"  My  dear  Clare,  why  will  you  lay  yourself  open  to  be 
addressed  in  this  manner  ?  "  he  said  gravely,  and  when  he 
called  her  Clare  she  knew  that  he  was  very  greatly  dis- 
pleased. "Why  will  you  not  pull  your  life  together  into 
some  degree  of  order?  Why  descend  to  the  level  on 
which  it  is  possible  for  your  tradesmen  to  write  to  you  in 
such  terms  as  these  ?  " 

Lady  Kenilworth,  who  was  the  most  caline  and  coaxing 
of  women  when  she  chose,  as  she  could  be  the  most  auto- 
cratic and  brusque  when  she  was  with  people  she  despised, 
rose,  looked  up  in  her  brother's  face,  and  stroked  the  lappet 
of  his  coat  with  her  pretty  slender  hand  sparkling  with  its 
many  rings. 

"  Write  me  a  little  check,  Ronnie,"  she  said,  "  and  don't 
put  my  name ;  make  it  payable  to  bearer." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Little  checks  or  big  checks,  Mousie,  don't  find  their 
way  to  your  tradesmen.  You  have  played  me  that  trick 
more  than  once ;  I  will  go  to  these  people  myself  and  pay 
them  the  whole  account ;  but— 

"  Oh,  don't  pay  them  the  whole  !  "  said  Mouse  uneasily. 
"That  would  be  great  waste  of  money.  If  you  can  really 
spare  me  as  much  as  this  give  it  to  me ;  I  will  find  a  thou- 
sand better  uses  for  it  than " 

"Paying  a  bill?    I  dare  say.    Sheridan  was  of  your 


THE  MASSAEENES.  65 

opinion ;  and  when  he  was  dying  they  sold  his  bed  from 
under  him." 

44  They  won't  sell  mine,  because  my  brother  will  be  by 
my  bedside,"  said  Mouse  with  a  sunny  yet  plaintive  smile 
in  her  forget-me-not  like  eyes. 

"  Don't  trust  too  much  to  that,  my  dear ;  I  am  mortal, 
and  a  good  many  years  older  than  you,"  he  answered 
gravely  as  he  folded  up  the  Bond  Street  tradesmen's 
threatening  letter  and  put  it  in  his  coat  pocket. 

44  You  had  better  write  a  check  for  me,  Ronald,  indeed," 
said  his  sister  coaxingly ;  "  it  will  look  odd  if  you  pay 
this,  or  if  your  people  pay  it,  and  I  could  do  a  great  deal 
with  all  that  money." 

44  You  would  do  everything  except  pay  the  account!  I 
don't  think  you  would  do  much  with  the  riches  of  all  the 
world  except  run  through  them,"  said  Hurstmanceaux 
curtly,  and  taking  no  notice  of  the  appeal.  Past  experi- 
ence had  taught  him  that  money  which  passed  through 
his  sister's  fingers  had  a  knack  of  never  reaching  its  desti- 
nation. "I  won't  compromise  you,"  he  added;  "don't 
be  afraid,  and  I  shall  tell  them  that  they  have  lost  your 
custom." 

44  You  need  not  say  that,"  said  Mouse  uneasily :  she  was 
very  fond  of  this  particular  Bond  Street  shop,  and  what 
was  the  use  of  paying  an  account  if  you  did  not  avail 
yourself  of  the  advantage  so  gained  by  opening  another 
one  instantly? 

44 1  certainly  shall  say  it,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  decidedly ; 
and  he  once  more  left  the  room.  Mouse  looked  after  him 
with  regret  and  uneasiness ;  regret  that  she  had  turned 
his  generous  impulse  to  such  small  account,  and  uneasi- 
ness lest  he  should  suspect  more  of  her  affairs  than  it 
would  be  well  for  him  to  learn. 

44  He  is  a  good  fellow  sometimes,  but  so  stiff-necked  and 
mule-headed,  she  thought,  as  she  hastily  calculated  in  her 
rapidly  working  brain  how  much  percentage  she  might 
have  got  off  the  Bond  Street  account  if  she  had  dealt  with 
the  matter  herself.  She  was  extravagant,  but  she  was 
very  keen  about  money  at  the  same  time,  at  once  prodigal 
and  parsimonious,  which  is  a  more  general  combination 
than  most  people  suppose. 
5 


66  THE  MASSARENES. 

Hurst  man  ceaux  looked  back  at  her  rather  wistfully 
from  between  the  cream-colored,  rose-embroidered  curtains 
of  the  doorway.  It  was  on  his  lips  to  ask  her  not  to  pur- 
sue her  patronage  of  Harrenden  House ;  but  as  he  had 
just  promised  to  do  her  a  service  he  could  not  seem  to 
dictate  to  her  an  obedience  as  a  return  payment  to  him. 
He  went  away  in  silence. 

"  Besides,  whatever  she  were  to  promise  she  would 
always  do  as  she  liked,"  he  reflected :  previous  experiences 
having  told  him  that  neither  threats  nor  persuasions  ever 
had  the  slightest  effect  upon  his  sister's  actions. 

As  he  went  out  of  the  vestibule  into  the  street,  he 
passed  a  tall,  very  good-looking  young  man  who  was 
about  to  enter,  and  who  nodded  to  him  familiarly  as  one 
brother  may  nod  to  another.  Hurstmanceaux  said  a  curt 
good -day  without  a  smile.  The  other  man  passed  in  with- 
out the  preliminary  of  enquiring  whether  the  lady  of  the 
house  was  at  home,  and  the  footman  of  the  antechamber 
took  off  his  great  coat  and  laid  his  hat  and  cane  on  the 
table  as  a  matter  of  course :  a  person  who  had  known  no 
better  might  have  concluded  that  the  visitor  was  Kenil- 
worth  himself.  But  to  Kenny,  as  they  called  him  behind 
his  back,  the  anteroom  lackeys  were  much  less  attentive 
than  they  were  to  this  young  man. 

"My  real  brother-in-law,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  to  him- 
self, with  a  vexed  frown  upon  his  brows  and  a  little  laugh 
which  people  would  have  called  cynical  upon  his  lips. 
He  did  not  love  Kenil worth,  but  young  Lord  Brancepeth 
he  abhorred. 


THE'  MASSAEENES.  67 


CHAPTER  VI. 

44 1  MET  the  Miser :  how  has  he  been  to-day  ?  Rating 
you,  eh  ?  "  said  Lord  Brancepeth  when  he  had  been  ten 
minutes  or  more  ensconced  in  the  cosiest  corner  by  the 
boudoir  fire.  He  was  a  very  well-featured  and  well-built 
young  man,  with  a  dark  oval  face,  pensive  brows,  and 
great  dreamy  dark  brown  eyes ;  his  physiognomy,  which 
was  poetic  and  melancholy,  did  not  accord  with  his  con- 
versation, which  was  slipshod  and  slangy,  or  his  life  which 
was  idiotic,  after  the  manner  of  his  generation. 

Mouse  was  standing  behind  him  leaning  over  his  shoul- 
der to  look  at  an  ancient  British  coin  newly  attached  to 
his  watch-chain ;  her  own  eyes  were  soft  with  a  fullness  of 
admiration  which  would  have  been  doubtless  delightful  to 
him  if  he  had  not  been  so  terribly  used  to  it. 

"  The  Miser  was  out  of  humor  as  usual,"  she  replied ; 
"  Ronald  should  really  live  amongst  some  primitive  sect 
of  Shakers  or  Quakers,  or  Ranters  or  Roarers,  whatever 
they  are  called :  he  has  all  the  early  Christian  virtues,  and 
he  thinks  nobody  should  live  upon  credit." 

"  He  certainly  shouldn  t  live  amongst  us,"  said  Brance- 
peth, with  a  self-satisfied  laugh,  as  if  chronic  debt  were  a 
source  of  especial  felicitation.  "  How  he  hates  me,  by  the 
way,  Mousie." 

"  You  are  not  a  primitive  virtue,"  said  his  friend,  with 
her  hands  lying  lightly  on  his  shoulders,  and  her  breath 
stirring  like  a  soft  balmy  south  wind  amongst  his  close 
curling  dark  hair. 

Brancepeth  had  ceased  to  be  a  worshipper :  and  he  had 
ceased  even  to  like  being  the  worshipped,  but  habit  is 
second  nature,  and  it  was  his  habit  to  be  wherever  Lady 
Kenilworth  was,  and  that  kind  of  habit  becomes  second 
nature  to  lazy  and  good-hearted  men. 

He  was  a  young  man  who  was  so  constantly,  almost 
universally,  adored  that  it  bored  him,  and  he  often  re- 
flected that  he  should  never  be  lastingly  attached  except 


68  THE  MASSARENES. 

to  a  woman  who  should  detest  him.  He  had  not  found 
that  woman  at  the  date  at  which  he  was  allowing  his 
friend  Mouse  to  hang  over  his  shoulder  and  admire  the 
ancient  British  coin.  He  always  told  people  that  he  was 
very  fond  of  Cocky.  Cocky  and  he  were  constantly  to  be 
seen  walking  together,  or  driving  together,  or  playing 
games  together,  outdoors  and  indoors ;  they  were  even 
sometimes  seen  together  in  the  nursery  of  those  charming 
little  blonde-haired,  black-eyed  children  who  were  taught 
\  by  their  nurses  to  pray  for  Cocky  as  papa. 

"The  Miser  will  marry  some  day,"  said  Brancepeth  now, 
44  and  then  he  won't  be  so  easy  to  bleed." 

44 1  am  sure  he  will  never  marry.  Alan  is  sure  he  never 
will."  Alan  was  her  second  brother. 

"Stuff!"  said  Brancepeth.  " Alan  will  be  out  in  his 
calculations." 

44  You  will  marry  some  day,  too,  I  am  sure,  Harry," 
whispered  Mouse,  as  she  leaned  over  his  chair ;  her  tone 
was  the  tone  of  a  woman  who  says  what  she  does  not  think 
to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  being  told  that  what  she  says  is 
absurd  and  impossible. 

Brancepeth  gave  a  little  laugh,  and  kissed  the  hand 
which  was  resting  on  the  back  of  his  chair. 

44  When  Cocky  goes  to  glory,"  he  answered. 

44  Cocky !  "  said  Cocky 's  wife  with  fierce  contempt.  "He 
will  never  die.  Men  like  him  never  do  die.  They  drink 
like  ducks  and  never  show  it.  They  eat  like  pigs  and 
never  feel  it.  They  cut  their  own  throats  every  hour  and 
are  all  the  better  for  it.  They  destroy  their  livers,  their 
lungs,  their  stomachs  and  their  brains,  and  live  on  just  as 
if  they  had  all  four  in  perfection.  Nothing  ever  hurts 
them  though  their  blood  is  brandy,  their  flesh  is  absinthe, 
and  their  minds  are  a  sink  emptied  into  a  bladder.  They 
look  like  cripples  and  like  corpses;  but  they  never  die. 
The  hard-working  railway  men  die,  the  hard-working 
curates  die,  the  pretty  little  children  die,  the  men  who  do 
good  all  day  long  and  have  thousands  weeping  for  them, 
they  die ;  but  men  like  Cocky  live  and  like  to  live,  and  if 
by  any  chance  they  ever  fall  ill,  they  get  well  just  because 
everybody  is  passionately  wishing  them  dead !  " 

She  spoke  with  unusual  intensity  of  expression,  her 


THE,  MASSARENES.  69 

transparent  nostrils  dilated,  her  red  lips  curled,  her  tur- 
quoise eyes  gleamed  and  glittered;  Brancepeth  looked  at 
her  in  alarm. 

"  On  my  word,  Sourisette,"  he  murmured,  "  when  you 
look  like  that  you  frighten  a  fellow.  I  wouldn't  be  in 
Cocky's  shoes,  not  for  a  kingdom." 

44  I  thought  you  were  longing  to  replace  Cocky  ?  " 

"Well,  yes,  of  course,  yes,"  said  Brancepeth.  "Only 
you  positively  alarm  me  when  you  talk  like  this.  I'm  not 
such  an  over-and-above  correct-living  fellow  myself,  and 
Cocky  isn't  so  out-and-out  bad  as  all  that,  you  know. 
After  all,  he's  got  some  excuse." 

"  Some  excuse  !  "  she  repeated,  her  delicate  complexion 
flushing  red.  "  Some  excuse  !  You — you,  Harry — you 
dare  to  say  that  to  me?" 

44  Well,  it's  the  truth,"  murmured  Brancepeth  sulkily. 
44  And  don't  make  me  a  scene,  Mouse ;  my  nerves  can't 
stand  it ;  I'm  taking  cocaine  and  I  ought  to  keep  quiet,  I 
ought  indeed." 

44  Why  do  you  take  cocaine  ?  "  asked  Lady  Kenilworth, 
changing  to  inquietude  and  interrogating  his  countenance 
anxiously. 

44  All  sorts  of  reasons,"  said  her  friend,  sulkily  still. 
44  Oh,  yes,  I  look  well  enough,  I  dare  say ;  people  often 
look  well  when  they  are  half  dead.  Don't  make  me  scenes, 
Topinetta ;  I  can't  bear  them." 

44 1  never  make  you  scenes,  darling;  not  even  when  you 
give  me  reason ! " 

44  Humph !  "  said  Brancepeth,  very  doubtfully,  44  when 
do  I  give  you  reason?  There  never  was  anybody  who 
stood  your  bullying  as  I  stand  it." 

"  B  ullying !     Oh,  Harry  ! " 

44  Yes,  bullying.  Cocky  don't  stand  it ;  he  licks  you ;  I 
cave  in." 

With  those  unpoetic  words  Lord  Brancepeth  laid  his 
poetic  head  back  on  the  cushions  of  his  chair,  and  closed 
his  eyelids  till  their  long  thick  lashes  rested  on  his  cheeks, 
with  an  air  of  martyrdom  and  exhaustion.  She  looked  at 
him  anxiously. 

44  You  really  do  not  look  well,  love,"  she  whispered,  as 
she  hung  over  his  chair.  "It  is — is  it — that  you  care  for 


70  THE  MASSARENES. 

any  other  woman?    I  would    rather    know    the    truth, 
Harry." 

"  Women  be  hanged,"  said  Brancepeth  with  a  sigh,  his 
eyes  still  closed.  "  It's  the  cocaine  ;  cures  a  fellow,  you 
know,  but  kills  him.  That's  what  all  the  new  medicines 
do." 


THE  'MASSARENES.  71 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  BY  the  way,"  said  the  young  man,  still  with  his  eyes 
closed,  and  indisposed  to  follow  his  companion's  lead  into 
the  domain  of  sentiment,  "  I  saw  the  most  beautiful 
woman  last  night  that  I  ever  saw  in  my  life — the  most 
glorious  creature  !  Such  eyes !  you  can't  imagine  such 
eyes ! " 

u  What  color  ?  "  asked  Mouse,  with  a  glance  at  her  own 
eyes  in  an  adjacent  mirror  and  a  displeased  severity  on 
her  mouth. 

"  Black — black  as  night !  At  least,  you  know,  perhaps 
they  weren't  really  black ;  they  were  like  that  stone — 
what  do  you  call  it — opal  ?  No ;  onyx — yes,  onyx.  Such  a 
woman  !  I'm  a  bad  'un  to  please,  but,  on  my  honor " 

"  You  are  very  enthusiastic ! "  said  Mouse,  with  the 
lines  of  her  lips  more  scornful  and  displeased.  "  Where 
did  you  see  this  miracle  ?  " 

Brancepeth  smiled. 

"  Lord,  how  soon  they  are  jealous ! "  he  thought.  "  Take 
fire  like  tow !  " 

Aloud  he  answered : 

u  Yesterday  my  sister  got  me  to  go  to  complines  at  the 
Oratory.  It  was  some  swell  saint  or  another,  and  some  of 
the  cracks  were  singing  there.  This  woman  was  close  to 
where  I  was.  She  was  all  in  black,  and  seemed  very  much 
4  gone '  on  the  service ;  her  eyes  got  full  of  tears  at  part 
of  it.  Well,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  she  fetched  me  so 
that  I  asked  the  Due  d'Arcy  to  see  my  sister  safe  home, 
and  I  followed  the  lady  with  the  eyes.  She  got  into  a 
little  dark  coupe f,  and  my  hansom  bowled  after  it.  I  ran 
her  to  earth  at  a  private  hotel — quite  solemn  sort  of  place 
called  Brown's — and  there  they  told  she  was  the  Countess 
zu  Lynar." 

"  Countess  zu  Lynar !  then  one  can  soon  see  who  she 
is,"  said  Mouse,  as  she  went  and  got  an  Almanac  de  Gotha 
of  the  year  from  her  writing-table. 


73  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Oh,  I  looked  there  last  night,"  said  Brancepeth  ;  "  she 
isn't  there  ;  but  the  porter  told  me  she  used  to  be  the  wife 
of  that  awfully  rich  banker  Vanderlin." 

Mouse  looked  up,  astonished  and  momentarily  inter- 
ested. 

"Are  you  quite  sure?" 

"  Positive." 

"  Then  she  can't  be  young  now,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth, 
with  relief  and  satisfaction. 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  is ;  at  least,  quite  young  enough,"  said 
Brancepeth  vaguely. 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  her ! "  continued  his  friend. 
"  She  is  not  in  society.  We  stand  a  good  deal  in  London, 
but  at  present  we  don't  receive  divorced  women." 

Brancepeth  laughed  softly  with  vast  amusement,  and 
did  not  offer  any  explanation  of  his  laughter. 

"  Such  eyes  !  "  he  murmured  dreamily.  His  friend  was 
silent.  After  a  while — "  Oh,  Lord,  such  eyes  !  " 

44  My  dear  Harry,"  said  Mouse,  with  cold  dignity,  "pray 
spare  me  your  lyrics,  and  go  and  write  them  in  the  por- 
ter's book  at  the  private  hotel.  You  could  probably  ap- 
proach the  lady  without  the  formula  of  introduction ;  a 
bouquet  would  do  it  for  you." 

Brancepeth  shook  his  head  mournfully. 

"Not  that  sort,"  he  said  gloomily.  "And  you  needn't 
be  in  such  a  wax  about  it,  Mouse ;  she's  gone  back  to  the 
Continent  this  morning.  They  told  me  so  at  the  hotel 
just  now." 

"And  you  did  not  go  to  Dover  instead  of  coming 
here  ?  "  said  his  friend  sarcastically.  "  I  am  amazed  that 
old  acquaintance  had  such  a  hold  remaining  on  you  as  to 
make  you  resist  the  seductions  of  the  tidal  train." 

44  You  can  be  nasty  about  it  if  you  like,"  said  the  hand- 
some youth  with  sullen  resignation.  "  You  make  the 
mistake  which  all  women  make.  You  fly  at  a  man  when 
he  tells  you  the  truth ;  and  then  you  are  astonished 
another  time  that  he  tells  you  a  lie.  If  there'd  been 
anything  in  it,  of  course  I  shouldn't  have  told  you  any- 
thing." ' 

44  An  admirable  confession.  I  shall  remember  it  another 
time." 


TEE ,  MASSARENES.  73 

"  Women  always  make  fellows  lie.  You  bite  our  noses 
off  if  we  ever  happen  to  tell  a  word  of  truth !  " 

"  But  it  breaks  my  heart  to  think  that  you  even  see 
that  other  women  exist,  Harry  !  " 

"  Oh,  bother !  "  said  Brancepeth  roughly.  "  Don't  be  a 
fool,  Mousie.  You  see  other  men  exist  fast  enough  your- 
self.7' 

She  was  silent.  She  was  conscious  that  she  did  do  so. 
Happily  for  the  preservation  of  peace,  there  was  at  that 
moment  announced  Prince  Khristof  of  Karstein. 

"  Her  father,"  murmured  Mousie  in  a  swift  whisper,  but 
Brancepeth  was  too  obtuse  to  understand;  he  only  stared, 
conscious  that  he  had  missed  a  tip. 

Prince  Khristof  was  a  bland,  gracious  person  who  had 
been  very  fair  in  youth  and  early  manhood,  and  still  pre- 
served a  delicate  clear  complexion  and  eyes  as  blue  and 
serene  as  Clare  Kenilworth's ;  his  hair  was  white  and 
silken,  his  form  slender  and  stately,  his  carriage  elegant ; 
and,  alas  !  there  was  not  a  good  club  in  all  the  world  into 
which  he  could  take  his  charming  presence.  When  the 
century  was  young  he  had  been  born  the  seventh  son  of  a 
then  reigning  duke  in  a  small  principality  of  green  pas- 
ture and  glacier-fed  stream,  and  pretty  towns  like  magnified 
toys,  and  many  square  leagues  of  resinous  scented  pine 
forest.  The  century  had  seen  the  principality  absorbed, 
the  dukedom  mediatized,  the  towns  ruined,  and  the  pine 
woods  leased  to  Javish  banks.  As  in  many  other  cases  the 
gain  of  the  empire  had  been  the  ruin  of  the  province. 
Prince  Khristof 's  eldest  brother  still  abode  in  his  toy- city, 
and  hats  were  lifted  as  he  passed,  but  he  reigned  no  more; 
and  Prince  Khristof  himself,  who  had  been  a  Colonel  of 
Cuirassiers  in  his  cradle,  and  at  ten  years  old  had  seen  a 
sentinel  flogged  for  omitting  to  carry  arms  when  he  had 
passed,  was  glad  to  furnish  a  mansion  for  Mr.  Massarene, 
and  take  forty  per  cent,  from  the  decorators  and  dealers, 
who  under  his  patronage  furnished  the  admirable  Clodion 
and  the  other  rarities,  beauties,  and  luxuries,  to  the 
adornment  of  Harrenden  House. 

He  felt  it  hard  that  when  he  had  permitted  his  daughter 
to  marry  into  finance  the  misalliance  had  so  little  profited 
himself  that  he  was  driven  to  such  expedients.  But  so  it 


74  THE  MASSARENES. 

was ;  and  though  the  descent  had  been  gradual,  it  had 
been  one  which  ended  in  Avernus,  and  royal  and  patrician 
society  had  shut  all  its  great  gates  upon  him,  leaving  him 
only  its  side  entrances  and  back  staircases.  The  man  who 
could  remember  when  he  had  been  a  child  in  his  nurse's 
arms,  seeing  guards  carry  arms  to  salute  him  as  he  was 
borne  past  them  suffered  acutely  from  his  degradation  : 
but  he  was  beyond  all  things  a  philosopher,  and  thought 
that  fine  tobaccos  and  delicate  wines  soothe,  if  they  do  not 
cure,  many  wounds,  even  when  you  can  only  enjoy  such 
things  at  the  expense  of  your  inferiors. 

"  This  old  beggar  ought  to  know,"  thought  Brancepeth, 
occupied  with  his  new  idea  and  to  whom  Germans  meant 
every  nationality  from  Schleswig-Holstein  to  Moldavia ; 
and  he  addressed  the  newcomer  point-blank. 

44  Do  you  know  a  Countess  Lynar,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  know  a  great  many  Lynars,"  replied  the  Prince. 
"  It  is  a  very  general  name.  Can  you  add  anything  more 
definite  ?  " 

"She's  the  woman  whom  that  Jew  fellow,  Van derlin, 
divorced,"  replied  Brancepeth. 

The  Prince  smiled  and  coughed. 

"Olga  zu  Lynar?  I  know  her — yes.  She  is  my  only 
daughter.  Vanderlin  is  a  banker,  but  he  is  not  a  Jew." 

Brancepeth  grew  very  red. 

"I — I — beg  you  ten  thousand  pardons,"  he  muttered. 
44 1  didn't  know,  you  know ;  I  am  always  blundering." 

"There  is  nothing  to  pardon,"  said  Prince  Chris 
sweetly.  "  Englishmen  are  so  insular.  They  never 
know  anything  about  their  neighbors  across  the  water. 
It  is  perfectly  well  known  everywhere  out  of  England 
that  my  daughter  was — separated — from  Vanderlin,  but 
that  you,  my  Lord  Brancepeth,  should  not  know  it  is  tout 
ce  quil  y  a  de  plus  naturel" 

44  He  takes  it  uncommonly  coolly,"  thought  Brancepeth, 
still  under  the  spell  of  his  astonishment,  and  still  dis- 
tressed as  an  Englishman  always  is  at  havii?g  made  a 
stupid  mistake  and  wounded  an  acquaintance. 

"  But  is  she  married  again  ? "  he  asked  anxiously. 
44  How  does  she  come  to  be  Lynar  ?  " 

"  Dear    youth,    you    are   not   discreet,"   thought    the 


THE  MASSARENE8.  75 

Prince,  as  he  replied  frankly  that  her  mother  had  been  a 
Countess  Lynar,  and  that  his  daughter  had  taken  her 
mother's  name,  he  was  himself  never  very  sure  why ;  but 
she  was  always  a  little  self-willed  and  fanciful,  she  was  a 
woman  ;  femme  trds  femme  !  When  she  had  married  into 
la  haute  finance  she  had  of  course  forfeited  her  place  in  the 
Hof-Kalendar. 

"  But  her  maiden  name  is  there."  He  turned  over  the 
leaves  of  the  Almanac  de  Gotha  and  pointed  to  the  entry 
of  the  birth  of  his  daughter  the  Countess  Olga  Marie 
Valeria. 

"  Why  does  she  call  herself  Countess  Lynar  ? "  said 
Brancepeth  with  curiosity,  conscious  of  his  own  bad  man- 
ners. Prince  Khris  pointed  to  the  page  : 

"  It  was  her  mother's  name,  you  see ;  and  more  than 
that,  in  the  property  which  my  daughter  possesses  there 
is  a  little  Schloss  Lynar,  hardly  more  than  a  ruin,  hidden 
under  woods  in  Swabia  which  gives  that  title  to  whoever 
owns  it.  Were  you  to  purchase  it  you  would  have  the 
right  to  write  yourself  Graf  zu  Lynar." 

"  I  would  rather  own  the  lady  than  the  castle,"  said 
Brancepeth,  too  stupid  and  too  careless  to  note  the  deepen- 
ing offence  in  the  eyes  of  Mouse. 

Prince  Khris  smiled  meaningly. 

"  The  lady  might  give  you  the  more  trouble  of  the  two." 

"  How  he  hates  her !  "  thought  Brancepeth.  "  I  sup- 
pose she  keeps  a  tight  rein  on  the  property." 

Brancepeth's  experiences,  which  had  been  extensive  in 
range  though  brief  in  years,  had  told  him  that  these 
family  dislikes  and  disagreements  usually  had  their  root 
in  the  auri  sacra  fames  ;  and  the  fact  was  well  known  all 
over  Europe  that  this  serene,  courtly,  distinguished-look- 
ing gentleman,  whose  name  was  recorded  in  the  Hof- 
Kalendar,  lived  very  nearly,  if  not  entirely,  by  his  wits. 

High  play  is  one  thing ;  cheating  is  another ;  if  you 
ruin  yourself  it  is  your  own  affair,  but  if  you  try  to  ruin 
others  by  unfair  means  it  is  the  affair  of  your  neighbors. 
Prince  Khristof  s  mind  was  so  made  that  he  had  never 
been  able  to  perceive  or  comprehend  the  difference  ;  of 
late  years  the  meaning  of  that  difference  had  been  en- 
forced on  him  disagreeably. 


76  THE  MASSABENES. 

"  I  suspect  he  is  the  devil  and  all  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  at  close  quarters,"  reflected  Brancepeth,  who  was 
a  very  cautious  young  man.  "  And  what  a  mess  he's  made 
of  his  life,  good  Lord,  with  all  his  cleverness  and  position  ; 
why,  a  decent  croupier's  a  ten  thousand  times  better  fel- 
low; hell  rook  you  like  winking  if  he  can  get  you  down 
at  ecart'e." 

"  And  she  came  over  here  to  see  you,  I  suppose,"  in- 
quired Brancepeth,  still  curious. 

"  Scarcely,"  said  the  Prince  with  a  fleeting  smile. 

"  Would  you — wouldn't  you  give  me  a  word  of  intro- 
duction ?  "  said  Brancepeth  hurriedly  and  conscious  of  his 
own  temerity. 

"To  my  daughter?"  said  the  Prince  blandly.  "My 
dear  lord,  I  should  of  course  be  delighted  to  do  so — de- 
lighted; but  I  am  not  on  speaking  terms  with  her.  I 
don't  call  on  her  myself.  How  can  I  send  anybody  else 
to  call?" 

"  What  did  you  quarrel  about  ?  "  asked  Harry  bluntly. 
"  Who  was  right  ?  " 

Prince  Khris  looked  at  him  with  amusement ;  it  was  so 
droll  to  find  people  who  asked  questions  like  children  in- 
stead of  finding  out  things  quietly  for  themselves.  To 
his  finer  and  more  philosophic  intelligence  such  a  primitive 
question  as  right  could  not  seriously  affect  anything.  He 
thought  the  young  Englishman  a  fool,  an  impertinent  and 
dense  fool ;  but  he  was  never  impatient  of  fools,  they  were 
too  useful  to  him  in  the  long  run.  What  wise  man  would 
be  able  to  play  ecarte  unless  there  were  fools  with  whom  to 
play  it  ? 

"  Of  course  the  divorce  was  all  Vanderlin's  fault !  "  said 
Brancepeth  with  clumsy  curiosity. 

"  It  is  always  the  man's  fault  in  such  cases.  That  is 
well  known." 

Prince  Khris  smiled  as  he  spoke  ;  there  was  something 
sardonic  and  suggestive  about  the  smile  which  made  it 
almost  a  grin,  and  which  seemed  singularly  ugly  to 
Brancepeth  considering  that  the  person  concerned  was  the 
grinner's  only  daughter.  No  one  could  more  completely  or 
more  cruelly  have  expressed  the  speaker's  conviction  that 
Vanderlin  was  entirely  blameless  in  this  matter. 


THE  MASSARENES.  77 

Mouse  listened  in  extreme  irritation ;  it  seemed  to  be 
beyond  even  her  Harry's  usual  obtuseness  to  continue  the 
theme  of  a  woman's  indiscretions  to  that  woman's  own 
father.  Besides,  she  hated  women  who  were  divorced: 
they  made  it  so  difficult  and  unpleasant  for  the  wiser 
members  of  their  sex. 

"  My  daughter  seems  to  have  impressed  you,  Lord 
Brancepeth,"  continued  the  Prince.  "  Where  is  it  that 
you  have  seen  her?" 

"At  the  Oratory,"  said  Brancepeth,  "  and  in  the  street. 
She  is  so  awfully  fetching,  you  know." 

"  She  is  a  woman  who  makes  people  look  at  her,"  re- 
plied Prince  Khristof  indifferently,  "  Did  you  hear  her 
sing  at  the  Oratory?  She  has  a  voice!  ah,  such  a  voice! 
the  most  flexible  mezzo-soprano.  She  could  have  made 
her  fortune  on  the  stage." 

"  No.  She  didn't  sing,"  said  Brancepeth,  greatly  inter- 
ested. "  She  seemed  to  pray  no  end,  and  she  cried.  But 
she  cried  so  beautifully.  Not  as  most  of  them  do  who 
make  such  figures  of  themselves.  But  the  tears  just 
brimming  in  her  eyes  and  falling,  like  the  what  d'ye  call 
'em,  you  know,  the  Magdalens  in  the  picture  galleries." 

The  Prince  laughed  outright. 

44  For  felicitous  allusion  your  Englishman  has  never  an 
equal,"  he  thought,  whilst  he  said  aloud :  "  My  dear  lord, 
what  did  I  tell  you  ?  Olga  is  femme,  Ms  femme.  If  I 
wanted  to  weep  I  should  not  go  to  the  Oratory  myself. 
But  a  woman  does  go.  It  is  a  consolation  to  her  to  be  ad- 
mired and  pitied,  and  I  have  no  doubt  she  observed  that 
you  did  both." 

44  She  didn't  even  see  me,"  said  the  younger  man,  on 
whose  not  oversensitive  nerves  something  in  the  elder's 
tone  grated. 

44  Her  father  don't  do  much  to  save  her  character,"  he 
thought.  "  It's  an  ill  bird  fouls  its  own  nest." 

Meanwhile  Mouse  had  listened  with  scarcely  concealed 
impatience  to  all  these  questions  and  answers.  She  sat 
apparently  engrossed  in  the  pages  of  the  Almanac  de 
Gotha,  but  in  reality  losing  nothing  of  her  friend's  inter- 
rogations and  implications.  At  last,  out  of  patience,  she 


78  THE  HA8SAEENES. 

closed  the  little  red  book  and  said  imperiously  to  Brance- 
peth  : 

"Surely  it  is  time  you  went  on  guard  ?  Have  you  any 
idea  what  time  it  is?  Besides,  if  you  don't  mind  my  say- 
ing so,  I  want  to  talk  about  something  to  the  Prince  be- 
fore I  go  for  my  drive." 

"  I  aren't  on  guard  to-day ;  but  I'll  go,  of  course,  if  you 
want  me  to  go,"  murmured  Brancepeth  sulkily,  raising 
his  lazy  long  limbs  out  of  his  comfortable  resting-place 
with  a  sense  of  regret,  for  he  would  willingly  have  gone 
on  talking  about  the  lady  of  the  Oratory  for  another  Lour. 

"Such  a  dear  good  boy,  but  always  wanting  in  tact," 
said  Lady  Kenilworth,  as  the  door  of  the  morning-room 
closed  on  him. 

"  Wanting  in  reason  too.  To  talk  of  another  woman 
when  he  is  in  the  presence  of  Lady  Kenilworth !  What 
obtuseness!  what  blindness,"  said  Prince  Khris  with 
graceful  gallantry.  "But  Englishmen  are  always  like 
that.  They  go  all  round  the  world  and  see  nothing  but 
their  own  umbrellas;  they  keep  on  their  hats  in  St. 
Peter's,  and  set  up  their  kodaks  at  the  Taj  Mahal.  I 
have  always  said  that  a  people  who  could  conquer  India 
and  yet  clothe  their  Viceroy  in  a  red  cloth  tunic,  are  a 
people  without  perception.  They  travel,  but  they  remain 
islanders.  Their  minds  are  enfolded  in  their  bath-towels 
and  sanitary  flannels.  They  do  not  see  beyond  the  rim 
of  their  tubs.  But  I  believe  you  did  me  the  honor  to 
wish  to  speak  to  me?  I  need  not  say  that  if  there  be  the 
smallest  thing  in  which  I  can  be  of  service  you  command 
my  devotion." 

Mouse  sat  dreamily  and  irritably  opening  and  shutting 
the  Almanac  de  Gotha.  Prince  Khristof  wore  a  wholly 
altered  aspect  to  her  now  that  she  saw  him  as  the  father 
of  a  woman  whom  Harry  admired  and  had  followed. 

"Do  you  know — such  is  my  insularity — that  I  never 
knew  you  had  a  daughter  or  had  had  a  wife?"  she  said 
abruptly,  as  she  pushed  the  book  away. 

44  Dear  Madame !  you  surely  have  not  sent  for  me  to 
speak  of  these  two  ladies  ?  "  he  said,  picking  up  the  little 
red  book.  "  My  deceased  wife's  name  is  here,  if  you 
chose  to  look  for  it ;  niy  daughter's  is  not,  because  she  ex- 


THE  MASSAHENES.  79 

iled  herself  into  the  haute  finance.  I  once  had  the  entire 
collection  of  this  Almanac  since  its  beginning  in  1760. 
If  we  want  to  see  how  despicably  modern  editions  fall 
below  the  standard  of  all  work  of  the  last  century,  noth- 
ing will  show  us  that  fact  more  completely  and  conclu- 
sively than  this  Almanac.  Contrast  the  commonplace 
portraits  of  to-day's  Gotha  with  the  exquisite  designs  of 
the  eighteenth  century  kalendars." 

"Yes,"  said  Mouse  shortly:  "yes,  no  doubt.  You  are 
always  right  in  matters  of  art.  My  dear  Prince,  how  very 
admirably  you  have  housed  those  people  at  Harrenden 
House.  If  only  the  birds  were  worthy  the  nest." 

44  Ah-ha !  It  was  for  this,  was  it,  that  you  wanted  to 
see  me?  "  he  thought,  as  he  said  aloud:  44I  suggested — I 
merely  suggested.  I  am  delighted  the  result  meets  your 
approval.  They  are  excellent  people,  those  good  Massa- 
renes.  You  remember  that  I  told  you  so  in  Paris.  Des 
bans  gens;  de  tres  bons  gens.  A  little  uncouth,  but  the 
world  likes  what  is  simple  and  fresh." 

She  looked  at  him  to  see  if  he  could  really  say  all  this 
with  a  serious  countenance ;  she  saw  that  he  could ;  his 
handsome  fair  features  were  without  the  ghost  of  a  smile 
and  his  whole  expression  was  grave,  sincere,  attuned  to 
admiring  candor. 

"  If  he  takes  it  like  that  I  had  best  take  it  so  too," 
thought  Mouse,  who  was  aware  that  she  was  but  a  mere 
beginner  and  baby  beside  him  in  the  delicate  arts  of  dis- 
simulation. But  Nature  had  made  her  proud,  inclined  to 
be  blunt  and  sarcastic,  and  occasionally  unwisely  inclined 
to  frankness ;  she  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes  now, 
and  said : 

"  But  you  and  I  are  going  to  do  our  duty  to  our  fellow 
Christians,  and  polish  them,  aren't  we?  I  was  quite 
straight  with  you  about  the  purchase  of  Vale  Royal ;  but 

S)u  weren't  so  straight  with  me  about  Harrenden  House, 
on't  you  think,  Prince,  we  can  do  our  friends  more  good 
if  we  are  friends  ourselves?     Quarreling  is  always  a  mis- 
ta&e. 

He  bowed  and  smiled.  His  smooth  delicate  features 
expressed  neither  annoyance  nor  pleasure,  neither  wonder 
nor  surprise. 


80  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  I  am  always  Lady  Kenil worth's  devoted  servant,"  he 
said  graciously,  with  the  air  of  a  suzerain  accepting  hom- 
age. "  I  am  sorry  you  think  that  I  should  have  consulted 
you  about  the  town-house,"  he  added.  "  It  did  not  occur 
to  me;  you  were  in  Egypt.  I  never  offend  or  forget 
those  who  wish  me  well — of  that  you  may  be  sure.  It 
was  amusing  to  arrange  that  house,  and  one  could  be  of  so 
much  use  to  artists  and  other  deserving  people  of  talent." 

Mouse  laughed,  rather  rudely,  and  her  laughter  brought 
a  slight  angry  flush  to  the  cheek  of  Prince  Khris.  He 
had  both  noble  and  royal  blood  in  his  veins,  and  at  the 
sound  of  that  derisive  little  laugh  he  could  have  strangled 
her  with  pleasure.  By  an  odd  contradiction,  Lady  Kenil- 
worth  offended  him  by  precisely  that  same  kind  of  blunt- 
ness  and  nakedness  of  speech  with  which  her  brother  had 
offended  herself.  The  delicate  euphemisms  which  she  ex- 
pected to  have  used  to  please  herself  seemed  to  her  alto- 
gether ridiculous  when  they  were  required  by  another 
person. 

"  Englishwomen  are  always  so  coarse,"  he  thought ; 
"  they  never  understand  veiled  phrases.  They  will  call 
their  spade  a  spade.  There  is  no  need  to  do  so,  whether 
you  are  digging  a  grave  with  it  or  digging  for  gold ;  it  can 
always  be  a  drawing-room  fire-shovel  for  other  people, 
whatever  work  it  may  accomplish. 

44  Yes,  you  are  quite  right,  dear  lady,"  he  added,  after  a 
slight  pause.  44  The  task  is  not  a  light  one ;  we  will 
divide  its  difficulties.  I  have  experience  that  you  have 
not  yet  gained  ;  you  have  influence  that  I  have — alas  ! — 
lost.  Let  us  take  counsel  together.  Our  friends  the 
Massarenes  are  good  people — excellent  people ;  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  guide  them  in  the  way  they  should  go." 

He  remained  with  her  half  an  hour,  and  only  left  her 
when  it  was  announced  that  her  carriage  was  waiting  be- 
low. He  kissed  her  hand  with  all  the  reverential  grace 
which  a  fine  gentleman  can  lend  to  his  farewell ;  but  as 
he  descended  the  staircase  and  went  into  the  street,  he 
swore  under  his  breath. 

44  There  is  no  devil  like  a  blonde  devil ! "  he  thought. 
44  Mouse  they  call  her !  A  rat !  a  rat !  with  teeth  as  sharp 
as  nails  and  claws  which  can  cling  like  a  flying  bat's  I  It 


THE  MASSARENES.  81 

is  little  use  for  the  world  to  have  made  woman  all  these 
thousands  of  years ;  she  remains  just  what  she  was  in 
Eve's  time,  in  Eriphyle's  time — always  the  same — always 
purchasable,  always  venal,  always  avaricious !  Ah  !  why 
was  this  rodent  not  my  daughter  ?  We  would  have  made 
the  world  our  oyster,  and  no  one  should  have  known  the 
taste  of  an  oyster  but  ourselves !  " 

Whilst  he  passed  along  Stanhope  Street  into  the  Park 
his  own  daughter  was  standing  in  a  room  of  a  secluded 
and  aristocratic  hotel  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  where 
she  had  arrived  that  morning. 

She  was  dressed  in  black,  with  three  strings  of  pearls 
round  her  throat ;  they  were  the  pearls  she  had  worn  on 
her  ill-fated  marriage  day.  She  was  a  woman  of  singular 
beauty;  the  kind  of  beauty  which  resists  sorrow  and 
time,  and  ennobles  even  the  mask  of  death. 

With  her  was  one  of  her  cousins,  Ernst  von  Karstein, 
the  only  one  of  her  family  who  had  been  faithful  to  her 
through  good  and  evil  report,  who  had  loved  her  always, 
before  her  marriage  and  after  it ;  but  who  had  always 
known  that  he  could  look  for  no  response  from  her. 

44  You  are  always  well,  Olga,"  he  w&s  saying  now. 
44  What  amulet  have  you  ?  " 

44 1  imagine,"  she  answered,  "that  my  talisman  consists 
in  absolute  indifference  as  to  whether  I  be  ill  or  well." 

44  That  is  a  blasphemy,"  said  her  companion.  44  No  one 
can  be  indifferent  to  health.  Ill-health  intensifies  every 
other  evil  and  saps  the  roots  of  every  enjoyment." 

44  Yet  to  lie  on  a  sick  bed,  at  peace  with  man  and  God, 
and  surrounded  by  those  we  love,  would  that  be  so  sad  a 
fate?" 

"  You  speak  of  what  you  know  nothing  about ;  you  are 
never  ill !  You  grow  morbid,  Olga.  You  live  like  a  nun. 
You  see  no  one.  The  finest  mind  cannot  resist  the  mor- 
bid influences  of  constant  solitude.  Whoever  your  Pope 
is,  you  should  ask  his  dispensation  from  such  vows." 

44  The  law  has  been  my  Pope,  and  has  set  me  free  of  all 
vows.  I  live  thus  because  I  do  not  care  to  live  other- 
wise." 

"  I  should  have  thought  you  too  proud  a  woman  to  ac- 
cept excommunication  in  this  submissive  way." 

6 


12  THE  MASSARENES. 

She  smiled  a  little. 

"  Proud  ?  I  ?  The  daughter  of  Khristof  of  Karstcin, 
and  the  divorced  wife  of  Adrian  Vanderliri?" 

44  Curse  them  both  ! "  said  her  cousin  under  his  breath. 

44  You  have  been  in  London  ?  "  he  said  aloud. 

44  A  week,  yes :  my  father's  affairs,  as  usual." 

44  You  never  see  him  ?  " 

44  Never.     See  the  man  who  ruined  my  life ! " 

"  But  you  have  no  proof  of  that  ?  " 

She  smiled  again  very  sadly. 

44  A  crime  which  can  be  proved  is  half  undone.  He  was 
too  wary  to  be  traced  in  all  these  schemes  of  infamy." 

44  Yet  you  befriend  him  ?  " 

"Befriend?  That  is  not  the  word.  I  spend  my 
mother's  money  on  him  for  her  sake.  One  saves  him  at 
least  from  public  disgrace.  But  he  games  away  all  he 
gets,  and  continues  to  live  in  the  wa}r  you  know." 

"I  do  not  think  you  should  waste  your  substance  on 
him.  Keep  it  for  yourself,  and  return  to  the  world." 

44  On  sufferance,  as  a  declasee?     Never !  " 

44  As  my  wife.  I  have  said  so  many  times.  I  never 
change,  Olga." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  noble  and  grateful 
gesture. 

44  You  are  always  faithful.  You  alone.  I  thank  you. 
But  you  must  leave  me  to  my  fate,  dear  Ernst.  It  is  not 
in  your  power  to  change  it." 

44  It  would  be  in  my  power  if  you  gave  me  the  man- 
date." 

"  But  it  is  that  which  I  cannot  do ;  which  I  shall  never 
do." 

44  Because  you  still  love  the  man  who  repudiated  and 
disgraced  you !  " 

She  shrank  a  little  as  at  a  blow. 

44  One  cannot  love  and  unlove  at  will,"  she  said  simply. 
44  It  is  very  generous  of  you  to  be  ready  to  give  the  shield 
of  your  umblemished  honor  to  a  dishonored  woman.  But 
were  I  ungenerous,  unworthy  enough,  to  accept  such  a 
sacrifice  I  should  but  make  you  and  make  myself  more 
unhappy  than  we  now  are.  All  the  feeling  which  is  still 
alive  in  me  lives  only  for  the  memory  of  the  past." 


THE  MASSARENES.  83 

Her  cousin  turned  away  and  paced  the  room  to  hide 
the  pain  he  felt.  He  had  loved  her  through  good  and  evil 
report,  had  remained  unmarried  for  her  sake,  and  was 
read^  now  to  accept  all  obloquy,  censure  and  discredit  for 
her  sake. 

"Go,  my  dear  Ernst,"  she  said  very  gently;  "go,  and 
forget  me.  You  might  as  well  love  a  buried  corpse  as 
love  a  woman  with  such  a  fate  as  mine." 

"  My  love  should  have  power  to  magnetize  the  corpse 
into  fresh  life  !  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"It  would  be  impossible*  Were  it  possible,  what  use 
would  be  a  galvanized  corpse  ?  An  unnatural  unreal 
thing  which  would  drop  back  into  the  dust  of  death." 

He  did  not  reply ;  he  endeavored  to  control  his  emotion. 

"  My  dear  Olga,"  he  said,  when  he  could  do  so,  "  allow 
me  to  say  one  thing  to  you  without  causing  you  offence. 
Unknown  to  yourself,  I  think  you  cherish  an  illusion 
which  can  only  cause  you  unhappiness.  You  think  and 
speak  as  if  your  division  from  Adrian  Vanderlin  were  but 
some  quarrel,  some  mistake,  which  explanation,  mediation, 
or  time  could  clear  away.  You  forget  that  you  are  entire 
strangers  to  each  other ;  worse  than  strangers,  because 
there  is  an  irrevocable  chasm  between  you." 

She  did  not  reply ;  an  expression  of  intense  suffering 
came  into  her  eyes,  but  she  restrained  any  outward  utter- 
ance of  it. 

"It  hurts  me  to  say  these  harsh  things  to  you,"  he  con- 
tinued. "I  would  so  much  sooner  encourage  you  in  your 
sentiment.  But  to  what  end  should  I  do  so?  You  are  a 
woman  of  deep  and  passionate  feeling.  You  do  not  for- 
get; you  do  not  change ;  your  little  boy's  grave  is  to  you 
what  Bethlehem  was  to  the  Early  Christians ;  Vanderlin 
is  to  you  what  Ulysses  was  to  Penelope.  You  never  seem 
to  realize  that  this  past  to  which  }^ou  cling  is  a  wholly 
dead  thing,  no  more  to  be  imbued  again  with  the  breath 
of  life  than  the  body  of  your  poor  child,  or  the  marble 
which  lies  over  him.  It  is  intolerable  that  a  woman  as 
young,  as  lovely}  as  rich,  as  admired  and  as  admirable  as 
you  are  should  pass  your  years  in  obscurity  fettered  to  a 
pack  of  useless  memories  like  a  living  person,  to  a  corpse. 


84  THE  MASSAEENES. 

I  have  told  you  so  often ;  I  shall  never  cease  to  tell  you 
so.  What  do  you  expect?  What  do  you  hope  ?  What 
do  you  desire  ?  " 

"Nothing."  The  word  was  cold,  incisive,  harsh,;  he 
tortured  her  but  she  did  not  give  any  sign  of  pain  except 
by  the  nervous  gesture  with  which  her  fingers  closed  on 
the  strings  of  pearls  at  her  throat  as  if  they  were  a  collier 
deforce  which  compressed  and  suffocated  her. 

"No  one  lives  without  desires  or  ends  of  some  kind 
however  absurd  or  unattainable  they  may  be,"  he  said  with 
truth.  "  I  think  you  deceive  yourself.  I  think  that,  with- 
out your  being  sensible  of  it,  you  brood  so  much  over  the 
past  because  you  fancy  vaguely  that  you  will  evolve  some 
kind  of  future  out  of  it,  as  necromancers  used  to  stare  into 
a  crystal  until  they  saw  the  future  suggested  on  its  sur- 
face. The  crystal  gave  them  nothing  but  what  their  own 
imagination  supplied.  So  it  is  with  you.  Your  imagina- 
tion makes  you  see  in  Vanderlin  a  man  who  does  not  exist 
and  never  existed ;  and  it  also  makes  you  fancy  possible 
some  kind  of  reconciliation  or  friendship  which  is  as 
totally  impossible  as  if  you  and  he  were  both  in  your 
coffins." 

She  had  turned  from  the  window  and  walked  to  and  fro 
the  room,  unwilling  that  he  should  see  the  emotion  which 
his  blunt  speech  awakened  in  her.  There  was  a  certain 
truth  in  them  which  she  could  not  wholly  deny  and  of 
which  she  was  ashamed. 

"  Do  not  let  us  speak  of  these  things.  It  is  useless," 
she  said  with  impatience.  "  You  do  not  understand  ;  you 
are  a  man ;  how  can  you  comprehend  all  that  there  is  in- 
effaceable, unforgetable,  for  a  woman  in  four  years  of  the 
tenderest  and  closest  union  ?  Nothing  can  destroy  it  for  j 
her.  For  a  man  it  is  a  mere  episode  more  or  less  agreea- 
ble, more  or  less  tenacious  in  its  hold  on  him ;  but  to  her 


She  stopped  abruptly :  her  companion  looked  at  her  with 
admiration  and  compassion  mingled  in  equal  parts,  and  he 
smiled  slightly. 

"  My  dear  Olga!  Once  in  a  hundred  years  a  woman  is 
born  who  takes  such  a  view  as  you  do  of  love  and  life. 
They  are  dear  to  poets,  and  furnish  the  themes  of  the 


THE  MASSARENES.  85 

most  moving  dramas.  But  they  are  women  who  invaria- 
bly end  miserably,  either  in  a  cloister  like  Heloise,  or  in  a 
tomb  like  Juliet,  or  simply  and  more  prosaically  with  tuber- 
cles on  their  lungs  at  Hyferes  or  the  Canaries.  You  know 
the  world,  or  you  used  to  know  it.  You  must  be  aware 
that  there  are  millions  of  women  who  in  your  place  would 
have  consoled  themselves  long  ago.  I  want  you  to  see 
the  unwisdom  and  the  uselessness  of  such  self-sacrifice. 
I  want  you  to  resume  your  place  in  the  world.  I  want 
you  to  realize  that  life  is  like  the  earth  :  there  is  the 
winter,  more  or  less  long,  no  doubt,  but  afterward  there 
is  the  spring.  You  know  that  poem  of  Sully  Prudhomme, 
in  which  he  imagines  that  all  the  plants  agree  to  refrain 
from  bearing  flowers  a  whole  year.  But  that  year  has 
never  been  seen  in  fact.  The  poem  is  wrong  artistically 
and  scientifically." 

"  Of  the  earth,  yes ;  but  in  the  human  soul  there  are 
many  spots  stricken  with  barrenness  for  ever." 

"  But  not  at  your  age  ?  " 

"  What  has  age  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

He  sighed ;  he  felt  the  use  of  argument,  the  futility  of 
entreaty. 

"  Are  you  not  too  proud  a  woman,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  to  sit  in  the  dust,  with  ashes  on  your  head,  smitten  to 
the  ground  by  an  unjust  sentence  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you.  All  my  pride  is  dead ;  not  for  a  year 
like  Sully  Prudhomme's  flowers,  but  for  ever." 

"  And  you  forgive  the  man  who  killed  it  ?  " 

The  blood  mantled  in  her  face. 

"  That  is  a  question  I  cannot  allow,  even  to  you,  dear 
Ernst." 

He  was  silenced. 

"  And  you  are  going  back  to  the  owls  and  the  bitterns 
of  Schloss  Lynar  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  took  his  leave  of  her 
half  an  hour  later.  "  What  a  life  for  you,  that  Swabian 
solitude ! " 

"  The  bitterns  and  owls  are  very  good  company,  and  at 
least  they  never  offend  me." 

"Let  me  be  as  fortunate!"  he  said  with  a  sigh.  "I 
may  return  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  leave  until  evening ! " 


86  THE  MASSARENES. 

When  he  had  left  her  she  remained  lost  in  the  sadness  of 
her  own  useless  thoughts  for  some  moments ;  then  she  put 
on  a  long  black  cloak,  a  veil  which  hid  her  features,  and 
went  out  in  the  street,  saying  nothing  to  the  two  servants 
who  traveled  with  her  or  to  the  servant  of  the  hotel.  She 
went  out  into  the  street  and  crossed  the  Seine  by  the 
bridge  of  Henri  Quatre,  her  elegance  of  form  and  her 
height  making  some  of  the  passers-by  pause  and  stare, 
wondering  who  she  could  be,  alone,  on  foot,  and  so  closely 
veiled.  One  man  followed  and  accosted  her,  but  he  did 
not  dare  persevere. 

She  went  straight  on  her  way  to  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  for 
she  had  known  Paris  well,  and  loved  it  as  we  love  a  place 
which  has  been  the  seat  of  our  happiness.  It  was  near 
the  end  of  a  grey  and  chilly  day ;  the  lights  were  glitter- 
ing everywhere,  and  the  animation  of  a  great  and  popular 
thoroughfare  was  at  its  height.  The  noise  of  traffic  and 
the  haste  of  crowds  made  her  ears  ache  with  sound,  so 
used  as  she  now  was  to  the  absolute  silence  of  her  Swab- 
ian  solitude;  a  silence  only  broken  by  the  rush  of  wind 
or  water.  She  approached  a  very  large  and  stately  build- 
ing which  looked  like  a  palace  blent  with  a  prison  ;  it  was 
the  French  house  of  business  of  the  great  Paris  and  Ber- 
lin financiers,  Vanderlin  et  Cie. 

She  walked  toward  it  and  past  it,  very  slowly,  whilst 
its  electric  lamps  shed  their  rays  upon  her. 

She  passed  it  and  turned,  and  passed  it  and  turned 
again,  and  as  often  as  she  could  do  so  without  attracting 
attention  from  the  throngs  or  from  the  police.  There  was 
a  mingling  of  daylight  and  lamplight ;  above  head  cumuli 
clouds  were  driven  before  a  north  wind.  She  waited  on 
a  mere  chance  ;  the  chance  of  seeing  one  whom  she  had 
not  seen  for  eight  years  pass  out  of  a  small  private  door 
to  his  carriage.  She  knew  his  hours,  his  habits  ;  probably, 
she  thought,  they  had  not  changed. 

She  was  rewarded,  if  it  could  be  called  reward. 

As  she  passed  the  facade  for  the  eighth  time,  and  those 
on  guard  before  the  building  began  to  watch  her  sus- 
piciously, she  saw  a  tall  man  come  out  of  that  private 
doorway  and  cross  the  pavement  to  a  coupe  waiting  by  the 
curbstone.  In  a  moment  he  had  entered  it ;  the  door  had 


THE'  MASSARENES.  87 

closed  on  him,  the  horses  had  started  down  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli. 

She  had  seen  the  man  who  had  repudiated  and  dis- 
honored her ;  the  only  man  she  had  ever  loved ;  the 
father  of  her  dead  boy. 

"  Does  he  ever  remember  ?  "  she  wondered  as  she  turned 
away,  and  was  lost  amongst  the  crowds  in  the  falling 
night. 


88  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

44  IF  you  get  into  a  bad  set,  I  tell  you  frankly  I  shall 
never  help  you  out  of  it.  A  bad  set  is  a  bog ;  a  hopeless 
bog;  you  flounder  on  in  it  till  you  sink.  Can't  you  un- 
derstand ?  If  you  are  going  to  be  taken  up  by  this  kind 
of  people,  don't  ask  me  to  do  any  more  for  you.  That's 
all.  I  don't  want  to  be  unkind,  but  it  must  be  one  thing 
or  another.  I  cannot  come  here  if  I  am  likely  to  meet 
persons  whom  I  won't  know.  Anybody  would  say  the 


same." 


She  spoke  with  severity,  as  to  a  chidden  child,  as  she 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  put  it  between  her  roseleaf  lips. 
She  was  in  the  boudoir  of  Harrenden  House,  and  Mar- 
garet Massarene  listened  in  humble  and  dejected  silence 
to  the  rebuke.  The  bone  of  contention  was  represented 
by  two  visiting  cards,  on  which  were  printed  respectively 
Lady  Mary  Altringham  and  Lady  Linlithgow:  the  bearers 
of  those  names  had  just  been  turned  away  from  the  gate 
below  by  order  of  the  fair  consor,  and  the  mistress  of 
Harrenden  House,  being  a  primitive  person,  to  whom  a 
want  of  hospitality  appeared  a  crime,  was  swallowing  her 
tears  under  difficulty. 

"  But  surely  these  ladies  are  high  and  all  that,  ma'am  ?  " 
she  pleaded  piteously  in  her  ignorance. 

44  They  were  born  if  you  mean  that,"  replied  Mouse 
with  great  impatience.  "  Lady  Mary  was  a  Fitz-Frederiek 
and  the  Linlithgow  was  a  Knotts-Buller.  But  they  are 
nowhere.  They  have  put  themselves  out  of  court.  No 
one  worth  thinking  of  knows  them.  They  can  do  you 
no  good,  and  they  can  do  you  a  great  deal  of  harm." 

Mrs.  Massarene  puckered  up  in  her  fingers  the  fine 
cambric  of  her  handkerchief, 

44  But  I  know  Lady  Mary,  ma'am !  " 

44  Drop  her,  then." 

44  What  have  she  done,  ma'am  ?  " 

44  Oh,  lots  of  things  ;  gone  wrong  stupidly,  turned  the 


THE  MASSAEENES.  89 

county  against  her ;  her  boy's  tutor,  and  a  young  artist 
who  went  down  to  paint  the  ballroom,  and  all  that  kind 
of  silly  public  sort  of  thing ;  people  don't  speak  to  her 
even  in  the  hunting-field.  She  can't  show  herself  at 
Court.  The  girls  were  presented  by  their  grandmother. 
She  is  completely  taree — completely !  " 

The  portrait  was  somewhat  heavily  loaded  with  colors, 
but  she  knew  that  her  hearer  would  not  be  impressed  by 
semi-tones  or  monochrome,  and  she  really  could  not  have 
Lady  Mary  coming  and  going  at  Harrenden  House. 

"  As  for  the  other  woman,"  she  added,  "  there  is  noth- 
ing actually  against  her,  but  she  is  bad  form.  They  are 
as  poor  as  Job  and  riddled  with  debts ;  they  have  even 
been  glad  to  let  their  eldest  daughter  marry  the  banker 
of  their  own  county  borough  !  " 

To  her  humble  companion,  to  whom  not  so  very  long 
before  a  banker's  clerk  had  seemed  a  functionary  to  be 
addressed  as  Sir,  and  viewed  with  deep  respect,  this  social 
error  did  not  carry  a  deep  dye  of  iniquity.  But  she 
abandoned  Lady  Linlithgow;  for  the  other  culprit  she 
ventured  to  plead. 

"Lady  Mary  was  so  very  kind  to  my  child,"  she  mur- 
mured timidly.  "  When  Kathleen  was  at  school,  before 
we  came  over,  Lady  Mary's  own  daughters " 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  I  tell  you  her  daughters 
go  out  with  their  grandmother.  You  know  nothing  of  all 
these  things.  You  must  do  as  you  are  told.  You  re- 
member your  blunder  about  my  aunt  Courcy  ?  " 

This  reminiscence  was  a  whip  of  nettles  which  always 
lay  ready  to  her  monitress's  hand,  and  the  monitress  used 
it  with  great  effect.  But  such  a  blunder  still  seemed 
natural  to  her;  Mrs.  Cecil  Courcy  was  a  commoner,  and 
these  ladies  who  had  just  been  turned  from  her  gates  were 
titled  people.  Why  was  the  one  at  the  apex  of  fashion, 
and  the  others  "  nowhere,"  as  her  monitress  expressed  it. 

She  hinted  timidly  at  this  singular  discrepancy,  so  un- 
intelligible to  the  socially  untutored  mind. 

"  How  is  it  possible  to  make  you  understand  ?  "  said 
Mouse,  lighting  a  second  cigarette  before  the  first  was 
half  consumed,  after  the  wasteful  manner  of  female 
smokers.  "  Rank  by  itself  is  nothing  at  all ;  at  least, 


90  THE  MASSARENES. 

well,  yes,  of  course,  it  is  something ;  but  when  people 
have  got  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  post,  they  are  of  no 
use  socially  to  anybody.  It  isn't  what  you  do  ;  it  is  how 
you  do  it.  You  know  there  is  an  old  adage  :  '  Some 
mustn't  look  in  at  a  church  door,  and  others  may  steal 
all  the  church  plate.'  It  is  always  so  in  this  world. 
Lady  Mary's  muffed  her  life,  as  the  boys  say.  I  daresay 
there  are  worse  women ;  but  there  isn't  one  so  stupid  in 
all  the  three  kingdoms.  Who  goes  driving  all  alone  with 
a  tutor  ?  Who  makes  a  pet  of  a  little  two  sous  Belgian 
fresco  painter?  Who  gets  herself  talked  about  with  the 
attorney  of  her  own  town  ?  Nobody  who  has  a  grain  of 
sense.  These  are  things  which  put  a  woman  out  of  so- 
ciety at  once  and  forever.  I  must  beg  you  to  try  and  un- 
derstand one  most  essential  fact.  There  are  people  ex- 
tremely well-born  who  are  shady,  and  there  are  others 
come  from  heaven  knows  where  who  are  chic.  It  is  due 
to  tact  more  than  anything  else.  Tact  is,  after  all,  the 
master  of  the  ceremonies  of  life.  It  isn't  Burke  or  De- 
brett  who  can  tell  you  who  to  know,  and  who  to  avoid. 
There  is  no  Court  Circular  published  which  can  show 
you  where  the  ice  won't  bear  you,  and  where  it  will, 
whom  you  may  only  know  out  of  England  and  whom  you 
may  safely  know  in  it.  There  are  no  hard  and  fast  rules 
about  the  thing.  If  you  haven't  been  born  to  that  kind 
of  knowledge  you  must  grope  about  till  you  pick  it 
up.  I  am  very  much  afraid  you  will  never  pick  it  up. 
You  will  never  know  a  princess  without  her  gilt  coach- 
and-six  ;  you  will  never  recognize  an  empress  in  a  water- 
proof and  goloshes;  and  you  will  never  grasp  the  fact 
that  supreme,  inexorable,  arid  omnipotent  Fashion  may 
be  a  little  pale  shabby  creature  like  my  aunt  Courcy,  who 
pinches  and  screws  about  a  groschen,  but  who  can  make 
or  mar  people  in  society  just  as  she  pleases." 

Margaret  Massarene  winced.  She  had  seen  Mrs.  Cecil 
Courcy  that  very  day  in  the  park  driving  with  the  Queen 
of  Denmark,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  Marlborough  House. 
All  these  niceties  of  shade  confused  her  utterly.  "  So- 
ciety's just  like  AspinalFs  Enamels,"  she  thought  in  her 
bewilderment ;  and  if  you  wanted  a  plain  yellow,  you 
were  confused  by  a  score  of  gradations  varying  from 


THE  MA88A&Etf$£.  91 

palest  lemon  to  deepest  orange :  there  were  no  plain  yel- 
lows any  more. 

"  But  I've  always  been  told  that  if  one's  pile's  big,  real 
big,  one  can  always  go  anywhere  ?  "  she  ventured  to  say, 
unconscious  of  the  cynical  character  of  her  remark. 

"  You  can  go  to  Court  here,  if  that's  your  ideal.  You 
do  go,"  replied  her  teacher  with  a  slighting  accent  of  con- 
tempt which  sounded  like  high  treason  to  the  mind  of  the 
Ulster  loyalist ;  "  but  it  don't  follow  you  can  get  in  else- 
where. It  just  depends  on  lots  of  chances.  Some  people 
never  get  into  the  world  at  all ;  merely  because  they  don't 
spend  their  money  cleverly  at  the  onset." 

44  Perhaps  they  spare  at  the  spigot  and  pour  out  at  the 
bung-hole,  my  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  in  homely  me- 
taphor. 44  There's  a  many  has  that  fault,  I  have  it  myself 
It's  all  I  can  do  still  to  hold  myself  from  saving  the 
candle-ends." 

44  Good  heavens  !     Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

44 1  do,  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  the  mistress  of  Harrenden 
House.  "When  I  see  them  beautiful  wax-lights,  just 
burned  an  inch  or  two,  and  going  to  be  taken  away  by 
them  wasteful  servants " 

Her  companion  laughed,  infinitely  diverted. 

44  But  it's  all  electric  light  here  !  " 

44  Not  in  the  bedrooms.  I  wouldn't  have  the  uncanny 
thing  in  the  bedrooms.  You  see,  my  lady,"  she  added 
timidly  in  confidential  whispers,  44  William  should  have 
led  me  up  to  all  this  grandeur  gradual.  But  he  didn't. 
He  always  said,  4  We'll  scrape  on  this  side  and  dash  on  the 
other.'  So  till  we  come  over  to  be  gentlefolks,  I  had  to 
cook  and  sweep,  and  pinch  and  spare,  and  toil  and  moil, 
and  I  can't  get  out  of  the  habit.  On  the  child  he  always 
spent ;  but  on  naught  else  not  a  cent  till  we  came  to 
Europe." 

"  Ah,  by  the  way,  this  daughter,"  said  Mouse,  suddenly 
roused  to  the  perception  that  there  was  an  unknown  factor 
in  the  lives  of  these  humble  people.  "  Where  is  she  ?  I 
have  never  seen  her.  She  is  out,  I  think?" 

Over  the  pallid,  puffy,  sorrowful  face  of  the  poor  harassed 
aspirant  to  smart  society  there  came  a  momentary  bright- 
ness. 


92  THE  MASSARENES. 

"Yes,  ma'am;  she's  what  you  call  *  out';  I  presented 
her  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  with  pride. 

"  But  where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  Kathleen — Katherine — is  in  India,  my  lady." 

"  Good  gracious  I     Why  ?  " 

44  Well,  she's  great  friends  with  the  Marquis  of  Fram- 
lingham's  daughters,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene,  feeling  sure 
this  time  she  was  safe. 

44  What !  Sherry  and  Bitters?"  cried  Lady  Kenilworth. 
Sherry  and  Bitters  was  the  nickname  which  his  caustic  but 
ever  courteous  wit  had  earned  for  Lord  Framlingham  in 
that  London  world  which  he  had  left  for  an  Indian  pres- 
idency. She  was  vexed  with  herself  for  not  having 
thought  sooner  of  asking  for  this  daughter  and  taking  her 
under  her  own  wing. 

Mrs.  Massarene  was  bewildered  by  the  exclamation ; 
but  she  was  sure  of  her  ground  this  time,  and  was  not 
alarmed.  "  Lord  and  Lady  Framlingham,  ma'am,"  she  re- 
peated with  zest.  44  It's  cruel  hard  on  me  to  lose  her  for 
so  long,  but  as  they're  such  grand  folks  one  couldn't  in 
reason  object." 

44  Grand  folks?"  repeated  her  visitor  with  amusement. 
44  Poor  dear  souls !  how  amused  they  be.  They'd  have 
been  sold  up  if  they  hadn't  gone  out ;  she  hated  going, 
said  she'd  rather  live  on  a  crust  in  England,  but  he  jumped 
at  the  appointment ;  he'd  a  whole  yelling  pack  of  Jews 
on  him ;  it's  quieted  them  of  course  ;  and  he's  let  Saxe- 
Durham  for  the  term.  You'd  better  tell  your  husband 
not  to  lend  him  any  money,  for  he  never  pays,  he  can't 
pay ;  he's  sure  to  get  your  daughter  to  ask." 

"Lord's  sakes,  my  lady  !  "  murmured  Margaret  Massa- 
rene: life  became  altogether  inexplicable  to  her;  if  a 
gentleman  who  was  a  marquis,  and  governor  of  a  province 
twice  as  big  as  France,  they  said,  were  not  everything  he 
ought  to  be,  where  could  excellence  and  solvency  be  looked 
for  ?  0  vertu  oil  vas-tu  te  nicher  f  she  would  have  said  had 
she  ever  heard  of  the  line. 

44  But  they  are  very — very — good  people,  are  they  not, 
ma'am  ?  "  she  asked  pathetically. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes ;  she  is  much  too  ugly  to  be  anything 
else,  and  he's  a  very  good  fellow  though  he  does  make 


THE  Q1ASSARENES.  93 

himself  hated  with  his  sharp  tongue.  He's  like  that  mon- 
arch, you  know,  who  never  did  a  wise  thing  and  never 
said  a  silly  one.  He's  awfully  clever,  but  he  can't  keep 
his  head  above  water.  But  why  on  earth  did  you  let 
your  daughter  go  for  so  long  ?  They'll  get  marrying  her 
to  one  of  their  boys;  they've  no  end  of  them." 

She  was  not  pleased  that  the  young  woman  was  stay- 
ing with  Lord  Framlingham ;  he  was  a  very  clever  and 
sarcastic  person  who  might  supply  his  guest  with  incon- 
venient and  premature  knowledge  of  English  society  in 
general  arid  of  Cocky  and  herself  in  particular. 

Mrs.  Massarene  smoothed  down  her  beautiful  gown 
with  a  nervous  worried  gesture. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  Katherine's  very  discreet,  and  by  her 
letters  all  she  seems  to  be  thinking  about  is  the  white 
temples  and  the  black  men." 

"  There  are  no  black  men  in  India,  and  you've  have  done 
much  better  to  keep  her  at  home,"  said  her  visitor  sharply. 
44  What  is  she  like  ?  " 

She  intended  this  young  woman  for  her  brother  Ron- 
ald, whatever  she  might  be  like. 

Maternal  pride  made  Mrs.  Massarene's  inexpressive  and 
commonplace  face  for  once  eloquent  and  not  ordinary :  its 
troubled  and  dreary  expression  of  chronic  bewilderment 
lighted  and  changed ;  her  wide  mouthed  smiled,  her  color- 
less eyes  grew  almost  bright. 

"  If  you'll  honor  me,  ma'am,  by  stepping  this  way,"  she 
said  with  alacrity  as  she  rose. 

4;  Horses  step — people  don't,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth, 
unkindly,  as  she  accompanied  the  person  whose  instruct- 
ress and  tormentor  she  was,  into  a  smaller  room  in  which, 
set  as  it  were  upon  an  altar,  a  white  marble  bust  stood 
on  a  plinth  of  jasper  with  a  fence  of  hothouse  flowers 
around  it ;  hanging  on  the  wall  behind  it  was  a  portrait. 
Lady  Kenilworth  looked  critically  at  both  bust  and 
portrait.  She  was  surprised  to  find  them  what  they 
were. 

44  A  classic  face,  and  clever,"  she  said  to  the  anxious 
mother.  "  Are  they  at  all  like  ?  The  bust's  Dalou's, 
isn't  it  ?  And  the  portrait " 

44  They  are  both  the  image  of  her,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs. 


04  THE  HASSARENES. 

Massarene,  with  great  triumph  in  the  effect  which  they 
produced.  "But the  marble  pleases  me  best." 

Lady  Kenilworth  was  still  looking  at  them  critically 
through  her  double  eye-glass.  She  was  thinking  that  the 
original  of  that  straight  and  somewhat  severe  profile  was 
perhaps  as  well  in  India  until  Prince  Khris  and  she  had 
tired  of  the  Massarene  vein.  On  the  other  hand,  unless 
the  girl  came  home,  she  could  not  be  married  to  Hurst- 
manceaux. 

"  Your  daughter  isn't  facile,  is  she  ?  "  she  asked  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  What,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  the  mother,  gazing  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  delicious  tears,  at  the  bust  which  would  have 
passed  as  an  Athene  or  a  Clio. 

"  Well,  not  easy  to  deal  with — not  easy  to  make  believe 
things ;  likes  her  own  way,  don't  she  ?  " 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  doubtfully,  "sweet- 
tempered  she  is,  and  forgetful  of  self  to  a  fault,  and  I 
wouldn't  lay  blame  to  her  as  obstinate.  But  if  you  mean 
as  how  she  can  be  firm,  well,  she  can  ;  and  if  you  mean  as 
how  she  can  have  opinions,  well,  she  have." 

Lady  Kenilworth  laughed,  but  she  was  vexed. 

"  That's  what  I  do  mean.  Nobody  has  that  straight 
profile  for  nothing  ;  where  did  she  get  it?  " 

"Lord,  ma'am,  however  should  I  know,"  said  the 
mother  meekly.  "  She  don't  take  after  either  of  us,  that's 
a  fact.  The  children  pick  up  their  own  looks  in  heaven,  I 
think,  for  often  nobody  can  account  for  'em  on  earth. 
Look  at  your  own  little  dears ;  what  black  eyes  they  all 
have,  and  you  and  my  lord  so  fair.  I  met  them  in  the 
Park  this  morning,  my  lady.  Would  you  let  them  come 
and  see  me  some  day  ?  " 

Lady  Kenilworth,  to  her  own  extreme  amazement  and 
annoyance,  felt  herself  color  as  the  straightforward  gaze 
of  this  common  woman  looked  in  sincerity  and  in  igno- 
rance at  her. 

"  The  children  shall  certainly  come  to  see  you  if  you 
wish,"  she  said.  "  But  they  are  naughty  little  people. 
They  will  bother  you  horribly.  And  pray,  my  dear 
woman,  don't  say  'My  lady,'  you  set  all  my  nerves  on 


THE  MASSARENES.  96 

Mrs.  Massarene  humbly  excused  herself.  "  It  comes 
natural,"  she  said  with  a  sigh ;  "  I  was  dairymaid  at  the 
Hall.  William  can't  bear  me  to  say  I  was,  but  I  don't 
see  as  it  matters." 

"  William  is  right,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth  with  a  glance 
at  the  bust,  "  and  I  am  sure  your  daughter  will  say  so  too.7' 

Mrs.  Massarene  shook  her  head.  "Kathleen  is  quite 
the  other  way,  ma'am.  She  says  we  can't  be  quality,  and 
why  should  we  pretend  to  ;  she  angers  her  father  terrible ; 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  she  angers  him  so  terrible  that  it  was 
for  that  reason  I  gave  in  about  this  long  visit  to  India." 

"  She  is  not  of  her  time  then,"  said  Lady  Kenilworth. 
"  I  am  afraid  she  gets  those  ideas  from  Framlingham.  He 
is  a  downright  Radical." 

"  I  don't  know  where  she  gets  them,"  said  Mrs.  Massa- 
rene drearily.  "  William  always  said  the  only  comfort 
about  a  girl  was  that  a  girl  couldn't  spite  you  in  politics 
as  a  boy  might ;  but  if  her  ideas  aren't  politics,  and  the 
worst  sort  of  politics,  I  don't  know  what  is,  and  when 
you've  kept  a  daughter  ten  years  and  more  at  school  where 
nobody  else  goes  as  isn't  titled,  it's  a  cross  as  one  doesn't 
look  for  to  have  her  turned  out  a  Republican." 

Lady  Kenilworth  laughed  with  genuine  mirth,  which 
showed  all  her  pretty  teeth,  white,  and  even  and  pointed 
like  a  puppy's. 

"  Is  she  a  Republican  ?  Well,  that  is  a  popular  creed 
enough  now.  I  am  not  sure  it  wouldn't  get  you  on  better 
than  being  on  our  side.  The  Radicals  do  such  a  lot  for 
their  people,  and  do  it  seriously  without  a  grimace.  We 
always  " — "  put  our  tongue  in  our  cheek  while  we  do  it," 
she  was  about  to  add,  when  a  sense  of  the  imprudence  of 
her  confession  arrested  her  utterance  of  it.  "I  do  wonder, 
you  know,  that  you  belong  to  us,"  she  hastened  to  add 
with  that  air  of  candor  which  so  often  stood  her  in  good 
stead ;  "  you  would  have  found  Ha  warden  easier  of  access 
than  Hatfield." 

Margaret  Massarene  stared. 

"But  William's  principles,  ma'am,"  she  murmured, 
"  Church  and  State  and  Property ;  William  says  them 
three  stand  or  fall  together." 

"  And  he  will  hold  them  all  up  on  his  shoulders  like  a 


96  THE  MASSARENES. 

Caryatide,"  said  Lady  Kenil worth,  with  her  most  winning 
smile. 

Mrs.  Massarene  smiled  too,  blankly,  because  she  did  not 
understand,  but  gratefully,  because  she  felt  that  a  compli- 
ment was  intended. 

"  I  can't  think,  though,  that  it  is  wise  of  him  to  allow 
this  visit.  I  think  it  is  exceedingly  ill-advised  to  let  her 
be  away  from  you  so  long,"  said  her  visitor,  still  gazing 
through  her  eye-glass  at  Dalou's  bust,  and  reflecting  as  she 
gazed:  "The  young  woman  must  be  odious,  but  she  is 
good-looking  and  Ronnie  shall  marry  her.  You  don't 
know  my  brother?"  she  said,  apparently  abruptly,  but  in 
her  own  mind  following  out  her  thoughts. 

"Meaning  Lord  Hurstmansceaux ?  No,  ma'am,  we 
haven't  that  honor." 

"  We  call  it  Hur'sceaux,  please." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  As  you  say  O'borne  for  Otterbourne, 
and  Kers'ham  for  Kesterholme.  Might  I  ask  why  those 
names  are  cut  about  so,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Usage !  Why  do  we  say  Gore  for  Gower,  and  Sel- 
lenger  for  St.  Leger?" 

"  Rebecca  Gower  was  postmistress  at  Kilrathy  when  I 
was  a  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  reflectively.  "  But  Lord ! 
if  anybody  had  clipped  her  down  to  Gore  their  letters 
would  have  all  gone  in  the  swill-tub !  " 

44  You  see,  we  have  not  the  privilege  of  acquaintance 
with  the  postmistress  of  Kilrathy!  Well,  I  must  try  and 
bring  my  brother  to  see  you.  But  he  is  like  your  daugh- 
ter; he  is  not  facile.  Like  all  those  reactionary  sort  of 
people,  he  thinks  nobody  good  enough  to  know.  I  never 
can  induce  him  to  make  a  new  acquaintance.  But  per- 
haps if  he  sees  this  Dalou "  With  a  pretty  smile  she 

left  the  unfinished  sentence  to  sink  into  the  mind  of 
Katherine  Massarene's  mother.  That  simple  and  candid 
personage  answered  the  unspoken  thought. 

44  We've  had  a  many  asking  for  Kathleen's  hand,  ma'am," 
she  said  very  stupidly.  "But  neither  she  or  William  are 
easy  to  please  in  that  way.  He  looks  so  high  as  naught 
but  kings  would  satisfy  him,  and  she — well,  I  don't  know 
what  she  wants,  I'm  sure,  and  I  don't  think  she  knows 
herself." 


THE1  MASSARENES.  97 

"  Perhaps  she's  in  love  with  Framlingham ! "  cried  her 
companion  with  a  disagreeable  little  laugh,  for  she  was 
provoked  at  her  unplayed  cards  being  discerned  by  a  per- 
son of  such  limited  intelligence. 

"A  married  man,  ma'am!"  cried  Mrs.  Massarene,  with 
a  countenance  so  palid  from  horror  that  Lady  Ken il worth 
laughed  as  heartily  as  if  she  were  hearing  Yvette  Guilbert 
sing. 

"Oh,  my  good  woman,  how  much  you  have  got  to 
learn  ! "  she  cried  gaily. 

Mrs.  Massarene  patted  her  gown  a  little  irritably,  but 
she  dared  not  resent;  though  it  seemed  to  her  that,  after 
all  her  William  had  done  for  this  lovely  young  lady,  it 
was  hard  to  be  called  by  her  a  good  woman. 

"  I'll  never  learn  to  break  the  Holy  Commandments, 
ma'am,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  offence. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  droll  creature  !  "  cried  her  visitor,  more 
and  more  amused. 

"  But  let  us  go  over  your  lists,"  she  said  sharply,  realiz- 
ing that  she  was  wasting  valuable  time  on  this  goose. 
"  They  will  want  no  end  of  weeding.  I  will  not  meet  any- 
body who  is  not  in  my  own  set.  You'll  get  the  right 
people  if  you  don't  mix  them  with  the  wrong." 

With  her  little  gold  pencil  as  a  stiletto  she  set  to  work 
mercilessly  on  her  work  of  expurgation  and  execution. 

Mrs.  Massarene  looked  on  helpless  but  agitated ;  a  sense 
of  wrath  was  stirring  in  her  mild  bosom,  but  she  dared  not 
show  it. 

"  To  be  called  a  good  woman  ! "  she  thought.  "  Just 
as  I'd  speak  to  the  match-seller  at  the  corner  of  a  street!" 

The  lists  thus  weeded  with  such  pitiless  surgery  pro- 
duced very  brilliant  gatherings  at  Harrenden  House,  and 
the  falconer  of  Clodion  saw  nearly  all  that  was  fairest  and 
noblest  pass  up  the  grand  staircase  which  he  guarded. 

Margaret  Massarene,  standing  till  she  was  ready  to  drop 
at  the  entrance  of  her  reception  rooms,  felt  her  head  swim 
under  her  tiara  as  she  heard  the  great  names  announced 
by  Winters. 

The  Massarene  pile  had  been  touched  by  the  magic 
wand  which  could  transform  it  into  fashion.  To  go  to 
Harrenden  House  became  the  amusement  of  the  great  ami 
7 


98  THE  MAS8ARENE8. 

the  ambition  of  all  lesser  folks.  Not  to  go  to  Harrenden 
House  became  soon  a  confession  that  you  were  nobody 
yourself.  "  Tenez  la  dragee  haute  !  "  said  their  guide,  phil- 
osopher, and  friend ;  and  she  made  them  very  exclusive 
indeed,  and  would  let  no  one  snub  them  or  laugh  at  them 
except  herself. 

44  On  my  soul,  she  do  give  worth  for  her  money ! "  thought 
William  Massarene ;  and  he  was  pleased  to  feel  that  he  had 
not  been  fooled  even  when  he  had  bought  a  barren  Scotch 
estate  and  compromised  his  credit  in  the  City  by  putting 
a  consumptive  little  sot  on  the  Board  of  a  bank. 

44  Why  don't  you  bespeak  the  Massarene  young  woman 
for  me,  Mouse?  "  said  Brancepeth  in  the  boudoir  of  Stan- 
hope Street,  when  he  heard  of  the  bust  of  Dalou  and  the 
portrait  of  Orchardson. 

"  How  exactly  like  a  man ! "  said  his  friend,  blue  fire 
flashing  from  her  eyes.  "  A  little  while  ago  you  were  mad 
about  the  Countess  Lynar !  " 

46  It's  uncommon  like  a  man  to  get  a  pot  of  money  when 
he  can! "  said  Brancepeth  with  amusement.  44If  you  did 
your  duty  by  me,  you'd  bespeak  me  those  loaves  and 
fishes ;  you  do  what  you  like  with  the  bloomin'  cad." 

"I  would  sooner  see  you  dead  than  married ! " 

44 1  be  bound  you  would,"  muttered  the  young  mam 
44  Lord,  that's  the  sort  of  thing  women  call  love  !  " 

"Men's  love  is  so  disinterested,  we  know! "  said  Mouse 
with  withering  contempt. 

44  You  want  the  young  woman  for  Ronnie,"  continued 
Brancepeth.  "  That's  your  little  game.  But  he  won't 
take  your  tip." 

"Why  not?" 

44  'Cos  he's  the  cussedest  crank  in  all  Judee !  Let 
Ronnie  please  himself  and  get  me  the  Massarene  dollars. 
I'll  give  you  half  I  get;  and  I  shaVt  know  whether  she's 
a  snub  nose  or  a  straight  one." 

Mouse  colored  with  anger.  There  are  things  when 
however  necessary  it  may  be  to  do  them,  cannot  be  spoken 
of  without  offence. 

44  How  odiously  coarse  you  grow,"  she  observed  with 
severity. 

"  Oh,  bother !  you  call  a  spade  a  spade  fast  enough 


THE  'MASSAEENES.  99 

sometimes.     How  you  do  make  me  think  of  my  old  granny 
Luce ! " 

"  In  what  do  I  resemble  your  old  granny  Luce  ?  " 

Brancepeth  was  mute.  To  repeat  what  his  maternal 
grandmother  had  said  would  not  pour  oil  on  troubled 
waters.  What  the  very  free-spoken  and  sharp-tongued 
old  Lady  Luce  had  said  was  this,  when  Brancepeth  was 
still  in  the  sixth  form  at  Eton : 

"  You're  such  a  pretty  boy,  Harry,  the  women-folks 
will  be  after  you  like  wasps  after  treacle  ;  take  my  advice, 
whatever  you  do  steer  clear  of  the  married  ones.  A  mar- 
ried woman  always  has  such  a  lot  of  trumps  up  her 
sleeve.  She  sticks  like  a  burr  :  you  can  pay  off  a  wench, 
but  you  can't  pay  off  her ;  and  if  her  fancy-man  tries  to 
get  away  she  calls  in  her  husband  and  there's  the  devil 
and  all  to  pay.  Don't  you  forget  that,  Harry." 

But  he  had  forgotten  it. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  up  and  see  the  little  beggars,"  he  said, 
to  make  a  diversion ;  and  he  slipped  away  before  she 
could  stop  him  and  went  up,  four  stairs  at  a  time,  to  the 
nurseries.  There  he  was  extremely  popular  and  much 
beloved,  especially  by  Jack ;  and  there  he  was  perfectly 
happy,  being  a  young  man  of  simple  tastes,  limited  intel- 
ligence, and  affectionate  disposition. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  an  uproarious  game  of  romps 
there  one  day,  when  Cocky  looked  in  from  the  doorway 
with  an  odd  little  smile. 

"  What  a  good  paterfamilias  you'll  be,  Harry,  when 
your  time  comes !  "  he  said,  with  a  look  which  made  poor 
Harry  color  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

The  head  nurse  intervened  by  calling  to  order  noisy, 
laughing  little  Jack. 

"  Don't  you  see  your  dear  papa  at  the  door,  Lord  Kers- 
holm  ?  "  said  that  discreet  woman. 

This  day  there  was  no  Cocky  in  the  doorway ;  but  the 
blindman's  buff  was  early  in  its  merry  course  interrupted 
by  a  message  from  Lady  Kenilworth  requesting  his  pres- 
ence downstairs. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  what  a  pity  !  "  said  Brancepeth,  as  he  pulled 
the  handkerchief  off  his  eyes,  s\vung  Jack  up  above  his 
head,  and  then  kissed  him  a  dozen  times. 


100  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"  I  wasn't  doing  any  harm,"  he  said  sulkily,  as  he  re- 
entered  the  presence  of  Jack's  mother. 

"  Yes,  you  were,"  she  said  coldly.  "  I  cannot  allow 
you  to  be  upstairs  with  the  children  so  long  and  so  con- 
stantly. Their  women  must  think  it  very  odd  ;  they  will 
talk.  No  other  of  my  husband's  friends  enters  the  nurs- 
eries. You  must  have  something  to  do  at  the  barracks, 
or  the  clubs,  or  the  stables,  or  somewhere.  Go  and  do  it."  , 

Brancepeth  hung  his  head.  He  understood  what  his 
punishment  would  be  if  he  dreamed  of  marrying  the 
Massarene  heiress  or  any  other  person  whatsoever.  Not 
to  see  the  children  any  more  except  as  any  other  of 
"  Cooky's  friends  "  saw  them  !  He  was  tender-hearted 
and  weak  in  will ;  she  cowed  him  and  ruled  him  with  a 
rod  of  iron.  "  Lord,  how  right  my  grandmother  Luce 
was  !  "  thought  the  poor  fellow  as  he  went  down  Stanhope 
Street  meekly,  feeling  in  remembrance  the  touch  of  Jack's 
soft,  fresh,  rosy  lips. 


THE'  MASSABENES.  101 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SOME  time  before  Easter  cards  had  been  issued  for  a 
Costume  Ball  at  Otterbourne  House,  temp.  Charles  II.,  to 
be  given  immediately  after  Easter.  The  Duke  occasion- 
ally lent  the  mansion  to  his  daughter-in-law  for  such  en- 
tertainments, never  very  willingly,  for  he  had  always  to 
defray  himself  the  cost  of  them,  and  he  greatly  disliked 
many  members  of  her  set.  But  he  recognized  a  certain 
right  in  his  eldest  son's  wife  to  have  the  house  sometimes, 
though  he  did  not  concede  that  it  went  so  far  as  for  her 
to  inhabit  it.  Those  little  dark-eyed  children  running 
about  Otterbourne  House,  and  Harry  Brancepeth  going 
in  and  out  of  it  continually — "Not  whilst  I  live,"  said  the 
Duke  to  himself.  After  him,  Cocky  must  do  as  he  chose. 
Cocky  would  probably  let  it,  or  sell  it  at  once  for  a  mon- 
ster hotel. 

She  arranged  her  ball  greatly  to  her  satisfaction  in 
every  detail  before  she  went  down  for  the  Easter  recess. 
But  there  was  one  thing  which  had  been  difficult.  That 
was,  to  persuade  the  Duke,  who  always  insisted  on  revis- 
ing her  list  for  parties  given  at  his  houses,  whether  in 
town  or  country,  to  allow  that  of  Massarene  to  remain  on 
it.  He  inquired  who  the  Massarenes  were  ;  and  did  not 
inquire  only  of  herself,  but  of  others.  He  was  most  de- 
cidedly opposed  to  the  presence  of  such  people  at  Otter- 
bourne  House.  But  Blair  Airori  was  not  yet  definitely 
purchased,  and  it  had  been  given  to  her  to  understand 
that  unless  the  gates  of  Otterbourne  House  unclosed, 
that  purchase  never  might  be  ratified.  All  her  ingenuity, 
all  her  cajolery,  all  her  infinite  skill  in  the  manipulation 
of  the  minds  and  wills  of  men,  failed  absolutely  for  a  long 
time  with  the  old  Duke.  He  would  not  have  a  man  come 
from  God  knew  where — well,  from  the  State  of  Dakota, 
that  was  equally  indefinite — brought  within  his  doors ; 
and  everything  she  could  think  of  to  say  only  rooted  him 
more  firmly  in  his  prejudices. 


102  THE  MASSAEENES. 

44  Odious,  insolent,  ill-natured,  pigheaded,  spiteful,  out- 
of-date  old  wretch !  "  exclaimed  Mouse,  as  she  read  a  note 
from  him,  and  cast  it  across  the  room  to  her  husband. 

"  The  Pater  ?  Oh,  I  say,  choose  your  language,"  said 
Cocky. 

In  his  shrivelled  heart,  dry  and  sere  as  a  last  year's 
leaf,  if  there  was  one  remnant  of  regard  and  respect  left, 
it  was  for  his  father.  Besides,  like  most  men,  he  always 
disagreed  with  anything  his  wife  said.  He  read  the  note 
in  a  glance. 

"  Won't  swallow  man  from  Dakota,"  he  said,  under  a 
«mile.  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  have  swallowed  him  if  he 
hadn't  greased  rny  throat  so  well." 

"  Hush ! " 

"  Who's  to  hear  ?     Dogs  don't  blab,  bless  'em  !  " 

44  I  dislike  to  hear  such  things  said,  even  in  jest." 

Cocky  chuckled. 

44  What  do  you  bother  the  pater  about  him  for  ?  I've 
swallowed  him  ;  society's  swallowed  him ;  all  the  royal 
folks  have  swallowed  him.  Why  can't  you  leave  the 
pater  in  peace  ?  " 

44  Why  ?  Why  ?  Because  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
that  the  Massarenes  should  be  seen  at  Otterbourne  House 
— seen  at  my  ball !  The  refusal  is  an  insult  to  me ! 
Your  father  is  a  hundred  years  out  of  date.  The  coun- 
try is  practically  a  republic  ;  we  shall  all  have  our  lands 
taken  from  us  before  long  and  parcelled  out  to  Jack  and 
Jill.  It  is  ridiculous  to  be  stiff-necked  about  knowing 
people.  All  stiffness  of  that  sort  went  out  when  the 
Hanoverian  line  came  in.  What's  half  the  peerage? 
Titled  tradesmen.  They  have  got  Richemont.  Could 
your  father  afford  Richemont?  There's  only  one  aristoc- 
racy now  left ;  it's  Money.  When  I  have  been  getting 
them  everywhere,  and  everybody  so  kind  about  it,  what 
shall  I  look  to  people  when  I  don't  have  them  at  my  own 
ball  ?  Your  father  has  no  consideration  for  me  ;  he  never 
has.  Put  it  as  a  personal  favor  to  myself,  and  you  see 
what  he  answers — within  a  week  of  the  ball !  " 

Cocky  listened  quietly,  because  it  was  diverting  to  see 
his  wife  so  displeased  and  to  hear  her  so  incoherent.  He 
Uked  her  to  be  "  in  a  wax  " ;  he  hated  to  think  things 


THE'  MASSARENES.  103 

went  as  smoothly  as  they  usually  did  go  with  her ;  but  he 
saw  the  gravity  of  the  dilemma.  If  Otterbourne  would 
not  have  the  Massarenes,  then  he  and  she  would  be  like 
the  farm-girl  of  fable — "  Adieu,  veau  vache  cochons  canvi-e  !  " 
There  might  even  ensue  inquiries  from  high  places,  and 
rebuffs  which  even  the  talent  of  Richemont  would  not 
avert.  Cocky,  to  whom  the  talent  of  Richemont  was 
agreeable  (he  lunched  and  dined  whenever  he  chose  at 
Harrenden  House),  and  more  agreeable  the  master  of 
Richemont  (who  accepted  his  signature  as  if  it  were 
Rothschild's),  saw  that  this  was  one  of  those  exceptional 
occasions  on  which  he  would  do  better  for  himself  to  side 
with  the  mother  of  the  four  little  poppets  upstairs. 

"  I'll  see  pater  about  the  thing  if  you're  so  set  on  it," 
he  said,  with  unusual  amiability. 

"  Can  you  do  anything  ?  "  she  said  doubtfully  and  sul- 
lenly. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  I'll  tell  him  Billy's  reforming 
me — making  an  honest  man  of  me  in  Fleet  Street,  and 
that  he'll  damage  me  if  he  shuts  his  doors  on  the 
beggars.  Perhaps  he'll  believe  it,  perhaps  he  won't ;  I'll 
try." 

"  I've  sent  them  their  cards ;  tell  him  so." 

"  That  wouldn't  move  him  a  jot ;  but  when  I  do  the 
eldest  son  rather  well,  and  make  believe  to  see  the  errors 
of  my  ways,  I  can  get  a  thing  or  two  out  of  Poodle — - 
sometimes.  After  all " 

After  all,  thought  Cocky,  there  had  been  days,  though 
it  seemed  odd  enough  to  think  so  now,  when  he  had  been 
a  clean  and  pretty  little  child  jumping  up  on  to  his 
father's  knee.  The  duke  thought  of  those  far-away  days 
oftener  than  he  did,  and  Cocky  was  never  ashamed  to 
exploiter  the  remembrance  to  base  ends. 

"  Go  at  once,  then,"  said  his  wife  ungraciously. 

Cocky  nodded.  But  when  he  had  reached  the  door  he 
looked  back  between  the  curtains,  a  rather  diabolic  grin 
upon  his  thin  fair  features. 

"  I  won't  tell  pater  you  sold  Blair  Airon  instead  of  sell- 
ing Black  Hazel.  Ain't  I  magnanimous?  " 

He  disappeared,  whilst  the  Blenheims  barked  shrilly  at 
his  memory.  Cocky  tui'ned  into  his  own  den  and 


104  THE  MASSARENES. 

strengthened  his  courage  with  an  "  eye-opener  '*  of  the 
strongest  species ;  then  he  took  his  way  to  his  father's 
mansion  looking  on  St.  James's  Park — a  beautiful  and 
majestic  house  built  by  Christopher  Wren,  and  coveted 
ardently  by  an  hotel  company. 

As  he  spun  along  the  streets  in  a  hansom,  for  Cocky 
never  went  a  yard  on  foot  if  he  could  help  it,  he  changed 
his  intended  tactics  ;  the  reformation  dodge  would  not  do  ; 
the  duke,  who  could  on  occasion  be  disagreeably  keen- 
sighted,  would  inevitably  discover  beneath  it  accepted 
bills  and  unworthy  obligations. 

44  I'll  touch  him  up  in  his  loyalty,"  he  thought.  "  The 
Poodle's  a  Cavalier  in  his  creeds." 

He  found  the  duke  at  home  with  a  slight  touch  of  gout 
in  his  left  foot.  "I  suppose  he  comes  for  money,"  thought 
Otterbourne,  for  Cocky  did  not  cross  his  threshold  once  in 
three  months.  But  Cocky  made  it  soon  apparent  that  his 
motive  was  more  disinterested. 

44  You  wrote  a  very  sharp  note  to  my  wife  just  now,"  he 
said.  "  It  has  worried  her." 

The  duke  looked  at  him  with  sarcastic  incredulity. 

44  Are  you  going  to  pose  as  your  wife's  champion  ?  It 
is  late  in  the  day." 

44  No,  I  ain't,"  said  Cocky.  44  Do  you  mind  my  lighting 
up,  Pater?" 

Otterbourne  indicated  with  a  gesture  that  when  any- 
thing was  painful  to  him  an  unpleasant  trifle  did  not  mat- 
ter. Cocky  lit  his  cigar. 

44  You  won't  let  her  invite  these  new  people,  the  Massa- 
renes  ?  " 

44  Most  decidedly  not.     Is  it  necessary  to  inquire  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  you  put  her  in  a  hole." 

41  Your  language  is  not  mine ;  but  I  conclude  you  mean 
that  I  inconvenience  her.  I  regret  it  if  it  be  so,  but  I 
cannot  say  otherwise." 

44  Why  did  you  object  to  the  people  ?  " 

"I  might  more  pertinently  inquire  why  did  you  know 
them  ?  " 

46  Everybody  does." 

44  Everybody  does — through  you,  or  rather  through  you* 
Wife.  At  least,  so  I  have  heard." 


THE  MASSARENES.  105 

44  Oh,  we  run  'em,  3res." 

Otterbourne's  silence  was  eloquent. 

"  You  see  it's  just  that,"  Cocky  pursued  with  engaging 
frankness.  u  When  the  town's  taken  'em  on  our  word  it 
will  be  such  a  slap  in  the  face  to  her  if  you  won't  let  'em 
into  your  house.  We  must  take  Willis's  Rooms  or  some 
place  instead  of  giving  the  ball  here,  but  that  will  make 
people  talk." 

"And  cost  you  money,"  said  the  duke  with  signifi- 
cance. 

"  And  there's  another  thing,  you  know.  Hes  gone  to 
'em  through  us.  Mouse  persuaded  him.  He'll  be  rough 
on  us  if  he  hears  you  set  up  your  back  ;  there  might  be  an 
awful  rumpus ;  it  might  be  unpleasant  for  him — the  papers 
would  magnify  the  thing." 

"  You  seem  to  make  a  mountain  out  of  a  molehill,"  said 
the  duke  with  suspicion  and  impatience.  "  Go  to  Willis's 
Rooms.  You  can  ask  any  number  of  shoeblacks  there 
that  you  please." 

"  You  don't  see  the  thing  as  it  is.  You'll  get  her  into 
trouble  with  the  Prince,  and  give  the  Press  a  lot  of  brick- 
bats to  shy  at  him :  I  know  you'd  regret  that.  I  shouldn't 
have  come  to  bother  you  if  I  didn't  think  the  thing  of 
some  importance.  After  all  you  can't  reasonably  exclude 
a  man  received  at  Court." 

"  My  bootmaker  goes  to  Court,  and  my  stationer. 
Very  worthy  persons,  but  they  don't  dine  with  me." 

"  But  Massarene  won't  dine  with  you :  we  only  want 
him  to  come  to  the  ball;  and  it's  her  ball  and  it's  not 
yours." 

"The  house  is  mine  as  yet,"  said  the  duke  stiffly. 

"  And  will  be  yours  twenty  years  after  I'm  tucked  up ; 
I'm  dead  broke — legs  and  lungs." 

"  You  have  ruined  yourself." 

This  was  so  obvious  that  Cocky  did  not  notice  it. 

"  Come,  Pater,  do  give  in  ;  don't  get  us  in  a  row  with 
the  Prince ;  when  he's  accepted  these  people  to  please  us 
it  would  enrage  him  awfully  if  he  learned  you  wouldn't  let 
'em  in.  He'd  asked  you  about  it,  of  course,  or  have  you 
asked  by  somebody."  * 

"  And  if  he  asks  why  I  do  let  them  in  ?  " 


106  TBE  NASSARENES. 

44  He  won't  do  that ;  he  goes  there." 

The  duke  was  silent.  He  sighed.  He  could  not  mend 
the  manners  or  the  men  of  a  time  which  was  out  of  tune 
with  him. 

But  Cocky's  argument  had  weight.  He  was  of  all 
things  kind  and  chivalrous,  and  would  have  no  more  caused 
a  scandal  or  a  scene  than  he  would  have  set  fire  to  St. 
James's  Palace  next  door  to  him.  He  reflected  on  the 
matter ;  saw  clearly  how  ugly  it  was,  look  at  it  how  you 
would,  and  at  last  conceded  permission  to  let  the  new 
people  come  on  the  condition,  however,  that  they  should 
not  be  introduced  to  himself.  "I  am  too  old,"  he  said, 
"  to  digest  American  cheese." 

His  daughter-in-law,  who  did  not  care  in  the  least  for 
this  stipulation,  went  gaily  to  luncheon  at  Harrenden 
House,  and  interested  herself  graciously  about  their 
costumes,  which  were  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to  both  of 
them. 

"  May  I  wear  my  diamonds?"  asked  Mrs.  Massarene; 
her  diamonds  were  a  great  resource  and  support  to  her  in 
society. 

"Oh,  the  more  diamonds  the  better?"  said  Mouse. 
"  Of  course  you'll  go  as  somebody's  grandmother,  a  Hyde 
perhaps?  You  need  only  telegraph  to  your  people  in 
Paris  the  epoch ;  they'll  know  exactly  what  to  send  you ; 
they  know  your  age  and  appearance." 

Margaret  Massarene  was  not  pleased,  and  felt  that  per- 
sons  of  high  rank  could  be  most  unpleasantly  rude. 

44  What  time  is  it  ?  "  asked  her  lord,  who  had  not  rightly 
understood. 

44  Charles  the  Second's.  Do  you  know  who  Charles 
the  Second  was  ? "  asked  Mouse  with  a  malicious  little 
laugh. 

"Him  as  had  his  head  took  off ?"  asked  Mr.  Massa- 
rene. 

Her  laugh  became  a  melodious  scream  of  delight. 

44  Oh,  you  are  too  delightful !  There  were  no  standards 
in  your  young  days,  were  there,  Billy?" 

He  reddened  angrily  under  his  thick  dull  skin  ;  he  was 
ashamed  of  his  blunder,  and  he  hated  to  be  called  Billy, 
even  by  those  lovely  lips. 


THE  MASSARENES.  107 

Finally  it  was  decided  that  he  should  go  as  Titus  Gates, 
and  should  get  his  dress  from  Paris,  and  should  learn  to 
say,  "  O  Lard." 

"  Remember,  the  man  is  not  to  speak  to  me,  not  to  ap- 
proach me,"  said  Otterbourne  to  his  daughter-iri-law  on 
the  day  of  the  ball,  when  she  had  come  to  give  a  glance  at 
the  completed  decorations. 

"  Oh,  he  quite  understands  that,"  she  replied.  "  I  have 
told  him  you  dislike  strange  men,  as  some  people  are 
afraid  of  strange  dogs." 

She  laughed  gaily  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  might  have  told  him,"  said  the  duke  drily,  "  that 
there  are  old-fashioned  persons  who  think  that  their  ac- 
quaintance should  be  kept  as  clean  as  their  hands." 

"  That  he  wouldn't  understand,"  replied  Mouse. 

"What  makes  you  protect  such  people?" 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know  !  In  other  ages  everybody  had  a 
pet  jester ;  now  everybody  has  a  pet  parvenu.  One  runs 
him  ;  it's  great  fun." 

The  duke  was  silent. 

"You  know,"  she  continued,  "he  bought  Vale  Royal 
of  Gerald.  Surely  all  the  family  ought  to  be  rather  nice 
to  him?" 

"  You  surprise  me,"  replied  the  duke.  "  I  sold  Seeton 
Pastures  to  a  grazier  last  year ;  but  the  obligation  to  be 
'nice  '  to  the  purchaser  was  not  in  the  contract.  The  sale 
of  Vale  Royal  was  a  great  disgrace  to  Roxhall,  for  his 
affairs  were  by  no  means  in  such  a  state  as  to  necessitate 
or  excuse  it.  But  whether  his  loss  or  his  gain,  the  sale  is 
certainly  his  affair ;  and  no  one  else's." 

"  Oh,  you  look  at  things  so — so — stiffly,"  said  his 
danghter-in-law.  "  We  don't,  you  know." 

"I  am  aware  that  you  do  not,"  said  Otterbourne  with 
significance  ;  and  dropped  the  subject. 

When  Clare  Courcy,  lovely  as  a  dream,  had  been  first 
married  to  his  son,  the  duke,  fascinated  out  of  his  better 
judgment,  had  admired  and  been  inclined  to  love  his 
daughter-in-law.  Even  now  he  could  not  be  wholly  in- 
sensible always  to  the  witchery  of  the  prettiest  woman  in 
England.  He  knew  her  worthlessness ;  he  was  aware  that 
his  son,  bad  as  he  had  been  before,  had  become  ten  times 


108  THE  MASSAEENES. 

worse  in  every  way  since  his  marriage ;  he  could  never 
see  the  little  black-eyed,  fair-haired  cherubs  of  the  Ken* 
ilworth  nurseries  without  a  sigh  and  a  curse  in  his  own 
thoughts  ;  but  she  at  certain  moments  fascinated  him  still. 

"  I  may  send  the  bills  in  to  Masters,  I  suppose  ?  "  she 
asked.  Colonel  Masters  was  the  duke's  agent,  a  silent, 
conscientious  ex-soldier  entirely  insensible  to  her  own  at- 
tractions. 

u  Certainly.  He  has  my  authority  to  discharge  them 
all.  You  seem  to  me  to  have  been  more  extravagant  than 
usual  in  your  orders." 

He  looked  around  him  as  he  spoke ;  they  were  standing 
in  a  long  gallery  at  the  head  of  the  grand  staircase. 
Flowers — flowers — flowers,  met  the  eye  in  every  direction, 
and  the  various  devices  which  held  the  electric  lights  were 
concealed  on  the  walls  by  millions  of  roses  and  orchids. 

"I  suppose  it  is  an  old-fashioned  idea,"  said  Otter- 
bourne;  "but  I  think  a  gentleman's  house  should  be 
thought  good  enough  for  his  friends,  even  for  his  future 
sovereigns,  without  all  this  dressing -up  and  disguising. 
Modern  fashions  are  extremely  snobbish." 

"  They  certainly  are ;  there  I  quite  agree  with  you," 
said  his  daughter-in-law,  and  meant  what  she  said.  "A 
fine  house  like  this  wants  no  dressing-up.  But  we  must 
do  as  other  people  do,  or  look  odd." 

"  Or  you  think  you  must,"  said  the  duke,  viewing  with 
small  pleasure  a  suit  of  Damascene  armor  which  an  an- 
cestor had  worn  before  Acre  and  Antioch,  wreathed  and 
smothered  with  long  trails  made  of  the  united  blossoms 
of  cattleya  and  tigredia,  whilst  within  its  open  vizor  two 
golden  orioles  sat  upon  a  nest. 

"  Do  you  think  that  in  good  taste  ?  "  he  said,  pointing 
to  it. 

"No;  execrable.  Nothing  done  in  time  is  ever  other- 
wise," said  Mouse  with  unusual' sincerity.  "We  are 
never  merry,  and  we  are  never  sorry;  so  we  heap  up 
flowers  to  make  believe  for  us  at  our  dances  and  our 
burials.  You  are  quite  right,  Pater,  in  the  abstract. 
But,  you  see,  we  can't  live  in  the  abstract.  We  must  do 
as  others  do." 

"  I  should  have  thought  the  only  true  privilege  of  birth 


THE  t  MASSARENES.  109 

was  to  set  us  free  of  that  obligation,"  said  Otterbourne, 
to  whom  his  noble  old  palace  looked  on  these  occasions 
very  much  like  the  sweep  who  was  muffled  up  in  ever- 
greens as  Jack-in-the-Green  on  May -day  in  the  little  old- 
world  country  town  which  clustered  under  the  hills  of  his 
big  place,  Staghurst  Castle. 

"  Of  course  he  is  right  enough,"  she  thought,  as  she 
drove  away.  "  The  house  would  be  ten  thousand  times 
better  left  to  itself,  and  we  are  all  as  vulgar  as  it  is  possi- 
ble to  be.  We  have  lost  the  secret  of  elegance — we  have 
only  got  display.  Why  couldn't  he  give  me  a  blank 
check,  instead  of  making  me  send  in  the  bills  to  Masters? 
He  is  such  a  screw !  He  wants  to  save  all  he  can  for  his 
precious  'Beric." 

Alberic  Orme  was  the  duke's  second  son ;  he  was  in 
Orders,  was  a  scholar  of  high  degree,  held  one  of  his 
father's  livings,  had  married  the  daughter  of  a  rural  dean, 
and  was  the  especial  object  of  the  ridicule,  derision,  and 
suspicion  of  Cocky  and  his  wife. 

Judging  Lord  Alberic  by  themselves,  they  attributed  to 
him  and  his  hostile  influence  every  one  of  the  duke's  acts 
which  was  disagreeable  to  them.  He  was  the  one  of  his 
family  nearest  to  the  heart  and  to  the  ear  of  the  duke  ; 
the  other  two  being  officers  in  cavalry  regiments,  both 
somewhat  spendthrifts  and  troublesome,  and  his  daughters 
having  married  early  and  being  little  with  him. 

To  be  dressed  up  like  a  tomfool,  and  prate  like  a  poll 
parrot,  as  he  phrased  it  in  his  own  thoughts,  was  unutter- 
ably odious  to  William  Massarene,  but  he  was  powerless 
under  his  enslaver's  orders.  When  the  Easter  recess  was 
passed  and  the  great  night  came,  he  appeared  as  Titus 
Oates,  looking  and  feeling  very  ridiculous  with  his  stout 
bowed  legs  in  black  silk  stockings  and  ruffled  breeches ; 
but,  after  all,  it  was  not  worse  than  Court  dress,  and  it  had 
procured  him  admittance  to  Otterbourne  House. 

"  Mind,  the  man  is  not  to  speak  to  me  ;  not  here,  nor 
anywhere  even  at  any  time,"  said  the  duke  to  his  daugh- 
ter-in-law, nervously  and  apprehensively. 

"  No,  he  never  shall,"  she  promised;  but  she  knew  that 
nobody  who  would  see  him  there  would  be  aware  of  the 
stipulation. 


110  THE  MASS  A  BEN E8. 

She  had  got  him  to  Otterbourne  House  and  had  fulfilled 
one  of  the  clauses  of  the  unwritten  contract  by  which 
Blair  Airon  was  sold. 

The  ball  was  a  great  pageant  and  a  great  success ; 
and  she,  as  the  most  exquisite  of  Nell  Gwynnes,  with  all 
her  lovely  natural  hair  curling  over  her  shoulders,  was 
very  kind  to  Titus  Gates,  guided  his  squat  stiff  unaccus- 
tomed limbs  through  the  mazes  of  one  quadrille,  and  even 
snatched  a  few  moments  to  present  him  to  some  great 
people  ;  and  as  her  father-in-law  made  but  a  brief  appear- 
ance in  the  rooms  and  only  spoke  with  the  royal  person- 
ages present  and  two  or  three  of  his  intimate  friends,  she 
found  little  difficulty  in  avoiding  the  introduction  to  him 
of  the  "  man  from  Dakota." 

"  Another  time,  another  time,"  she  said  vaguely,  and 
William  Massarene  was  dazzled  and  quieted. 

Cocky  was  present  for  half  an  hour,  looking  a  shaky, 
consumptive,  but  not  inelegant  Grammont,  for  his  figure 
was  slender  and  his  features  were  good.  He  was  infinitely 
diverted  by  the  sight  of  William  Massarene. 

"Passes  muster,  don't  he,  when  he  don't  open  his 
mouth? "he  said  to  Hurstmanceaux.  "Lord,  what  an 
ugly  mug  he's  got!  But  the  women  are  always  asking 
for  his  photo.  Haha  !  we've  got  it  in  Stanhope  Steet  large 
as  life.  Pater  won't  let  him  be  taken  up  to  him,  and  you 
won't  know  him  either.  You're  both  wrong.  He's  thor- 
oughly respectable,  and  he's  got  a  lot  of  my  paper." 

And  Cocky,  leaving  his  brother-in-law  furious,  sneaked 
off  to  find  the  buffets. 

It  was  a  very  splendid  and  gorgeous  scene  in  the  great 
house  which  Wren  had  designed,  and  many  a  famous 
painter  had  decorated.  Margaret  Massarene  gazed  at  it 
as  she  sat  in  solitary  state,  blazing  with  diamonds  and  ad- 
mirably attired  in  black  velvet  and  white  satin,  with  that 
due  regard  to  her  age  which  it  had  so  wounded  her  to  hear 
suggested.  No  one  noticed  her,  no  one  remembered  her; 
but  some  very  stately  dowagers  near  her  glanced  at  her 
now  and  then  with  an  expression  which  made  her  wish 
that  she  were  back  again  in  Dakota  by  her  oil-stove  and 
her  linen-wringer. 

"  'Tis  a  mighty  pretty  sight,"  thought  Margaret  Massa- 


TEE , MASSARENES.  Ill 

rene  as  she  sat  and  looked  on ;  "and  William's  dancingis 
a  thing  I  never  did  think  to  see  in  all  my  days.  But  these 
women  look  as  if  they'd  like  to  duck  me  in  a  pond." 

Carrie  Wisbeach,  who  was  genuinely  good-natured,  ob- 
served her  neglected  and  isolated  aspect,  and  called  to  her 
side  a  fresh-colored  pleasant-looking  person,  old,  but  hale 
and  bright-eyed,  who  had  taken  with  success  the  name  of 
Samuel  Pepys. 

"Daddy,  let  me  take  you  up  to  the  Massarene  woman," 
she  whispered.  "  She's  so  dreadfully  disconsolate,  and 
they  give  extraordinarily  good  dinners." 

He  looked  and  made  a  little  wry  face. 

"They've  got  Von  Holstein's  cook,"  she  added  per- 
suasively. 

"  Really  ?     Richemont  ?  " 

"Yes,  Richemont;  and  the  best  cellar  now  in  London. 
Come,  make  yourself  pleasant ! " 

"Ronnie  won't  know  'em,"  said  the  gentleman,  glancing 
down  the  rooms  to  where  Hurstmariceaux  stood,  looking 
very  handsome  but  extremely  bored,  wearing  the  dress 
which  a  Courcy  had  worn  when  ambassador  for  Charles 
to  the  French  Court. 

"  Ronnie  !  "  said  Lady  Wisbeach.  "  If  Ronnie's  fads 
were  attended  to  we  should  know  nobody  except  our  own 
families.  Come  along  ! " 

He  reluctantly  submitted,  deriving  courage  as  he  went 
from  the  memories  of  Von  Holstein's  chefs.  Her  aunts 
looked  unutterable  reproach  at  Carrie  Wisbeach  as  she 
murmured  the  inarticulate  formula  which  presented  Mr. 
Gwyllian  of  Lostwithiel  to  Mrs.  Massarene. 

"  Pretty  sight,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  said,  as  he  sank  back  on 
cushions  beside  her. 

"  A  beautiful  sight,"  said  Margaret,  with  unction,  "  and 
one  as  I  never  thought  to  see,  sir." 

He  stared  and  laughed. 

"  Unsophisticated  soul !  "  he  thought.  "  Why  has  cruel 
fate  brought  you  amongst  us?  Tell  me,"  he  murmured, 
"is  it  true  that  you  have  Von  Holstein's  cook?" 

If  she  had,  he  would  wait  and  take  her  to  the  supper- 
tables  ;  if  she  had  not,  he  would  at  once  leave  her  to  her 
fate. 


U2  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"  Meaning  the  German  Ambassador's,  sir  ? "  she  re- 
plied. "  Yes,  we  have." 

"  Ah !  "     He  decided  to  take  her  to  supper. 

"But  I  can't  say  as  we  like  him." 

"  What  ?  "  It  was  like  hearing  anybody  say  they  did 
not  like  Dante,  or  Jean  de  Reszke*,  or  truffles,  or  comet- 
claret. 

"  No,  sir,  we  don't,"  she  answered ;  "  he  doesn't  cook 
himself  at  all." 

"  Of  course  he  doesn't !  You  might  as  well  say  that  a 
pianist  should  make  the  piano  he  plays  on,  and  shoot  an 
elephant  to  get  ivory  for  his  keys!  Richemont — it  is 
Richemont  whom  you  have  ? — is  a  surpassing  artist." 

"  'Tis  easy  to  be  an  artist,  sir,  if  you  set  a  lot  of  people 
working  and  send  up  their  work  in  your  name,"  said  Mar- 
garet Massarene.  "  He  don't  do  naught  all  day — the 
under-cooks  say  so — and  he  gets  more'n  a  thousand 
guineas  a  year ;  and  he  called  Mr.  Massarene  an  imbecile 
because  he  wouldn't  eat  snails !  Now  I  put  it  to  you,  sir, 
what's  the  use  of  being  able  to  pay  for  the  fat  of  the  land 
if  you're  to  put  up  with  hodmedods  out  of  the  hedges?" 

Gwyllian  laughed  so  delightedly  that  the  two  terrible 
dowagers  turned  to  glance  at  him  with  a  Medusan  frown. 

"  After  all,"  he  thought,  "  one  does  get  a  great  deal 
more  fun  out  of  this  kind  of  people  than  one  ever  gets 
out  of  one's  own."  And  he  took  her  in  to  supper,  and 
made  himself  exceedingly  pleasant.  He  was  one  of  those 
wise  persons  who  if  they  cannot  be  pleasant  with  others 
are  nothing  at  all. 

Under  the  gentle  exhilaration  produced  by  a  little 
sparkling  wine,  Mrs.  Massarene  amused  him  infinitely, 
and  he  cleverly  extracted  from  her  more  about  life  in  Da- 
kota than  the  rest  of  London  had  learned  in  a  year ;  he 
was  even  made  acquainted  with  the  oil-stove  and  the 
linen -wringer. 

"What  a  nice  kind  man!  How  interested  he  do 
seem !  "  she  thought,  poor  creature,  unconscious  that  the 
oil-stove  and  the  linen-wringer  would  make  the  diver- 
sion of  a  dozen  dinner-tables,  manipulated  with  that  skill 
at  mimicry  which  was  one  of  Daddy  Gwyllian's  social  at- 
tractions. 


THE  MASSARENES.  113 

Her  husband  saw  her  from  a  distance,  and  divined  that 
she  was  being  "drawn  ";  but  he  was  powerless.  He  was 
in  waiting  on  an  aunt  of  Lady  Kenilworth's,  a  very  high 
and  mighty  person  with  aquiline  features  and  an  immense 
appetite.  It  was  her  garrulous  stupidity  and  her  clumsy 
ingenuousness  which  made  him  hate  her  with  a  hate  which 
deepened  every  day.  Why  had  he  hung  such  a  millstone 
round  his  neck  when  he  had  been  a  farm -lad  in  County 
Down?  Her  good  and  kindly  qualities,  her  natural  sin- 
cerity, simplicity,  and  good  nature  were  all  homely  in- 
stincts, no  more  wanted  in  her  new  life  than  a  pail  of 
fresh  milk  was  wanted  at  one  of  the  grand  dinners  at 
Harrenden  House. 

Once  she  had  gone  back  to  Kilrathy,  the  place  of  her 
birth,  and  revisited  the  pastures,  the  woods,  the  streams, 
which  she  had  known  in  girlhood.  The  big  house  in  the 
midst  of  the  green  lands  was  shut  up ;  bad  times  had  told 
there  as  in  so  many  other  places  in  the  land ;  the  family 
she  had  served  was  abroad,  impoverished,  alienated,  and 
all  but  forgotten.  But  nothing  else  was  changed.  The 
same  great  trees  spread  their  vast  shadows  above  the 
grass ;  the  same  footpaths  ran  through  the  meadows ;  the 
same  kind  of  herds  fed  lazily,  hock  deep  in  clover,  the 
rain  shining  on  their  sleek  sides,  their  breath  odorous  on 
the  misty  air;  the  same  kind  of  birds  sang  above  her 
head.  Every  step  of  the  way  was  familiar  to  her :  here 
was  the  stile  where  she  had  listened  first  to  William's 
wooing ;  there  the  footbridge  which  she  had  crossed  every 
market  day ;  here  the  black  hazel  coppice  where  she  had 
once  lost  a  silver  sixpence ;  there  the  old  oak  stump  where 
the  red  cow  had  been  suddenly  taken  with  labor  pains; 
the  rich  long  grass,  the  soft  grey  rain,  the  noisy  frogs  in 
the  marsh,  the  brimming  river  with  the  trout  up-leaping 
amongst  the  sword  rush  and  the  dock  leaves — all  these 
and  a  thousand  other  familiar  things  were  just  as  they  had 
been  five  and  thirty  years  before ;  but  none  of  the  people 
guessed  that  the  lonely  lady  so  richly  dressed,  walking 
silently  through  the  water  meadows,  had  once  been  Mar- 
garet Hogan.  She  did  not  dare  make  herself  known  to 
any  of  them  ;  she  stole  into  the  churchyard  and  sat  by 
her  parents'  graves  in  the  dusk,  and  gathered  a  few  daisies 
8 


114  THE  MASSABENES. 

off  the  nameless  mounds,  and  stole  away  again  feeling 
ashamed  as  of  some  overt  act.  She  saw  a  barelegged  girl 
going  home  with  the  cattle,  a  switch  in  her  hand  and  a 
gleam  of  sunset  light  coming  through  the  rain-clouds  and 
touching  her  red  hair  and  her  red  kirtle ;  and  in  an  odd 
breathless,  senseless  kind  of  ingratitude  to  fate,  she  wished 
that  her  Kathleen — Katherine — were  that  cow-girl,  thread- 
ing that  fragrant  twilit  path  with  the  gentle  kine  lowing 
about  her,  and  a  little  calf  nibbling  at  a  bunch  of  clover 
in  her  hand. 

"  'Twas  a  good  life  when  all  was  said,"  she  murmured, 
a  good  life,  washed  by  the  dews,  freshened  with  the 
winds,  sweetened  by  the  flowers.  She  left  a  bank  note  at 
the  poor-box  of  the  little  church,  and  returned  to  her 
grandeur  and  greatness,  bearing  in  memory  for  many  a 
day  that  pleasant  sound  of  the  cattle  chewing  the  wet 
grasses  in  the  dusk,  smelling  in  memory  for  many  a  day 
the  honey  scent  of  the  cowslips  in  the  wide  pastures  by 
the  river.  Those  memories  were  shut  up  in  her  heart  in 
secret ;  she  would  not  have  dared  to  speak  of  them  to  her 
husband,  or  her  daughter,  but  they  were  there,  as  the 
withered  daisies  were  in  the  secret  drawer  of  her  dressing- 
case  ;  and  they  kept  a  little  corner  of  feeling  alive  in  her 
poor  puffed-out  stiffened  overstretched  soul,  so  over- 
weighted with  its  cares  and  honors. 

It  seemed  wonderful  to  her  that  she  should  be  a  grand 
rich  lady  going  to  Court  and  wearing  diamonds.  Through 
all  these  years  through  which  the  millions  had  been  accu- 
mulating she  had  not  been  allowed  to  know  of  their  accu- 
mulation, or  permitted  to  cease  from  privations  and  inces- 
sant labor.  More  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  been 
to  her  a  period  of  toil  quite  as  severe  in  one  way  as  the 
life  as  a  dairy  girl  had  been  here  in  another  way.  Often 
and  often  in  the  bitter  winters  and  scorching  summers  of 
the  Northwest  she  had  thought  as  of  a  lost  paradise  of 
these  peaceful  pastures,  where  no  greater  anxiety  had 
burdened  her  than  to  keep  her  cows  in  health  and  have 
her  milking  praised. 

It  was  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  fine  lady ;  yes,  no  doubt  she 
was  very  proud  of  her  new  station  in  the  world.  But 
still,  these  white  satin  corsets  of  Paris  which  laced  her  in 


THE  MASSARENE8.  115 

so  tightly  were  less  easy  than  the  cotton  jacket  and  the 
frieze  coat ;  her  hands  laden  with  rings  or  imprisoned  in 
gloves  could  not  do  the  nimble  work  which  they  had  been 
used  to  do;  and  the  unconcealed  contempt  of  the  "smart 
society  "  in  which  she  lived  had  not  the  warmth  and  com- 
fort which  had  been  in  the  jokes  and  the  tears  of  the 
farm -girls  when  a  cow  upset  the  milk  she  had  given  or  the 
boys  came  home  fresh  from  a  fair.  It  was  all  much 
grander  of  course  in  this,  but  ease  was  wanting. 

"  My  dear  Ronnie  I  Those  new  folk  your  sister's  run- 
ning are  too  delicious  for  anything,"  said  Daddy  Gwyllian 
to  Hurstmanceaux  in  the  smoking-room.  "  I  took  the 
woman  into  supper,  and  on  my  soul  I  never  laughed  more 
at  the  Coquelins !  I'm  going  to  dine  there  on  Sunday ; 
they've  got  Richemont." 

"  More  shame  for  you,  Daddy !  "  said  Hurstmanceaux. 
"I  never  thought  you'd  worship  the  golden  calf." 

"Well,  rich  people  are  pleasant  to  know,"  said  Daddy 
Gwyllian.  "  They're  comfortable  ;  like  these  easy  chairs. 
Borrow  of  'em  ?  No,  't  isn't  that.  I  never  borrowed,  or 
wanted  to  borrow,  half-a-crown  in  my  life.  But  they're 
indirectly  so  useful.  And  they're  pleasant.  You  can 
turn  lots  of  things  on  to  them.  You  can  get  lots  of  fun 
out  of  them.  You  can  do  such  a  deal  for  your  friends 
with  them.  Rich  people  are  like  well-filled  luncheon- 
baskets  ;  they  make  the  journey  with  'em  mighty  pleas- 
ant. The  wine's  dry  and  the  game-pie's  good,  and  the 
peaches  are  hothouse,  and  it's  all  as  it  should  be  and  no 
bother." 

"  I  travel  on  cold  tea,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  with  dry 
significance. 

"Oh,  lord,  my  dear  Ronnie,  I  know  you  do,"  said 
Gwyllian.  "  But  I  can't  stomach  cold  tea,  and  a  good 
many  other  people  can't  either.  Now  your  poor  folks  are 
cold  tea  and  my  rich  folks  are  dry  sherry.  Economy's  a 
damned  ugly  thing,  you  know,  at  its  best.  When  I  go 
down  to  shoot  with  poor  folks  I  know  they  put  me  in  a 
cold  room  and  expect  my  servant  to  clean  my  gun.  The 
wealth  of  my  neighbor  means  my  own  comfort.  The 
want  of  means  of  my  friend  means  my  own  want  of  Men- 
etre  when  I  go  to  see  him.  Naturally  I  don't  go.  Equally 


116  THE  MASSARENES. 

naturally  I  do  go  where  I  am  sure  to  get  all  I  want.  1 
don't  want  any  bills  backed,  but  I  do  want  a  warm  house, 
a  dry  wine,  and  a  good  cook.  The  very  good  cooks  only 

fo  nowadays  to  the  very  rich  people  ;  that  is  to  the  roture. 
dined  at  a  royal  palace  last  month  execrably ;  I  was  ill 
afterwards  for  twenty-four  hours.  I  know  one  of  the 
chamberlains  very  well ;  I  got  to  the  bottom  of  this  horri- 
ble mystery ;  the  king  pays  so  much  a  head  for  his  din- 
ners, wine  included  !  I  fled  from  that  capital.  The  royal 
dynasty  is  very  ancient,  very  chivalrous,  very  heroic,  but 
I  prefer  the  Massarenes." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  bit- 
terly. "The  adoration  of  new  wealth  is  not  so  much 
snobbism  as  selfishness." 

"It  is  not  snobbism  at  all  in  us,"  said Gwyllian,  " the 
snobbism  is  on  their  side.  They  kiss  our  boots  when  we 
kick  'em.  Why  shouldn't  we  kick  'em  if  they  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  blame  your  kicking  them  for  a  moment.  I 
blame  your  legs  being  under  their  dinner-tables  while  you 
do  it."' 

"  That's  a  matter  of  opinion,"  said  Daddy.  " '  Je  prends 
mon  lien  ouje  le  trouvej  and  if  there's  a  good  cook  in  a 
house  I  go  there." 

"  There  are  good  cooks  at  the  Clubs." 

"  Passable.  But  when  I  dine  at  a  club  I  have  to  pay 
for  my  dinner,"  said  Gwyllian  with  a  chuckle.  "I  don't 
borrow  money,  but  I  like  to  save  it.  I  should  not  pay  a 
guinea  for  a  peach,  but  a  couple  of  guinea  peaches  taste 
uncommon  good  when  somebody  else  provides  'em." 

"  What  a  beast  you  make  yourself  out,  Daddy ! " 

"I'm  a  man  of  my  time,  dear  boy,"  said  Gwyllian,  as 
he  opened  a  silver  cigarette -case  which  a  pretty  woman 
had  won  at  a  bazaar  raffle  and  given  to  him. 

Daddy  was  popular  with  both  the  sexes.  Everybody 
liked  him,  though  nobody  could  tell  why  they  did  so. 

He  was  one  of  those  men  who  do  nothing  all  their  lives 
except  run  to  and  fro  society  like  dogs  in  a  fair.  He  was 
of  ancient  descent,  and  had  enough  to  live  on,  as  a  bache- 
lor, without,  as  he  had  averred,  ever  wanting  to  borrow 
half-a-crown  of  anybody.  He  had  a  little  nest  of  three 
rooms  in  Albemarle  Street,  full  of  pretty  things  which  had 


THE  MASSAEENES.  117 

all  been  given  him  chiefly  by  ladies,  and  he  was  seen  in 
London,  in  Paris,  in  Homburg,  in  Cowes,  in  Cannes,  in 
Monaco,  in  Biarritz,  at  the  height  of  their  respective  sea- 
sons with  unvarying  regularity  :  farther  afield  he  did  riot 
go  often ;  he  liked  to  have  his  familiar  world  about  him. 

He  was  now  an  old  man,  and  to  the  younger  generation 
seemed  patriarchal ;  he  had  been  called  Daddy  for  more 
years  than  anybody  could  remember.  But  he  was  healthy 
and  strong,  for  he  had  always  taken  care  of  himself;  he 
could  shoot  with  the  best  of  them  still,  and  could  sit  up 
all  night  and  look  fresh  and  rosy  after  his  shower-bath  in 
the  morning. 

"You  young  uns  have  no  stamina,"  he  said  once  to 
Brancepeth  when  he  found  that  young  man  measuring  the 
drops  of  his  digitalis.  "It  is  the  way  you  were  brought 
up.  In  my  time  we  were  fed  on  bread  and  milk,  and  rice- 
pudding,  and  wore  low  frocks  till  we  were  eight  or  nine, 
and  never  even  saw  what  the  grown-up  folks  ate.  You 
were  all  of  you  muffled  up  to  your  chins  in  the  nurseries, 
and  got  at  by  the  doctors,  arid  plied  with  wine  and  raw 
meat,  and  told  that  you  had  livers  and  lungs  and  diges- 
tions before  you  could  toddle,  and  given  claret  and  what 
not  at  luncheon,  and  made  old  men  of  you  before  you  were 
boys.  Dilitation  of  the  heart,  have  you  got  ?  Hypertrophy, 
eh  ?  Lord  bless  my  soul,  you  shouldn't  know  you've  got  a 
heart,  except  as  a  figure  of  speech,  when  you  swear  it 
away  to  a  woman." 

Everybody  listened  to  Daddy  even  in  an  age  which 
never  listens :  he  was  so  obviously  always  right ;  he  had 
so  evidently  found  out  the  secret  of  an  evergreen  vital- 
ity ;  he  was  so  sagaciously  and  unaffectedly  devoted  to 
himself,  his  selfishness  was  just  tempered  by  that  amount 
of  good  nature,  when  it  cost  him  nothing,  which  makes  a 
person  popular ;  he  was  naturally  good-natured  and  sell- 
able and  kindly  when  to  be  so  caused  him  no  difficulty ;  he 
would  even  take  a  little  trouble  for  people  when  he  liked 
them,  and  he  liked  a  great  many.  On  the  whole,  he  was 
a  happy  and  very  sensible  creature,  and  if  his  existence 
was  one  long  egotism  arid  inutility — if  he  were  really  of 
no  more  value  than  a  snail  on  a  cabbage-leaf — if  the  alpha 
and  omega  of  existence  were  comprised  for  him  in  his  own 


118  THE  MASSARENES. 

comfort,  he  was  at  least  pleasant  to  look  at  and  to  listen 
to,  which  cannot  always  be  said  of  persons  of  great  util- 
ity. Daddy,  moreover,  though  a  very  prudent  creature, 
did  patch  up  some  quarrels,  prevent  some  scandals,  re- 
move some  misunderstandings  amongst  his  numerous  ac- 
quaintances, but  it  was  because  he  liked  smooth  waters 
around  his  own  little  barque ;  life  ought  to  be  comfort- 
able, he  thought;  it  was  short,  it  was  bothered,  it  was 
'subject  to  unforeseen  accident,  and  it  was  made  preca- 
rious by  draughts,  fogs,  model  stoves,  runaway  horses,  and 
orange  peel  on  the  pavement ;  but  as  far  as  it  could  be 
kept  so,  it  ought  to  be  comfortable.  All  his  philosophy 
centred  in  that ;  and  it  was  a  philosophy  which  carried 
him  along  without  friction. 

If  Daddy  Gwyllian  never  borrowed,  he  also  never  lent 
half-a-crown  ;  but  he  got  other  people  to  lend  it  to  other 
people,  and  this  is  the  next  most  attractive  social  qualifi- 
cation which  endears  us  to  our  friends. 

To  real  necessity  he  was  occasionally  ver}^  serviceable 
indeed,  so  long  as  it  did  not  put  its  empty  hand  in  his 
own  pockets ;  but  on  the  distresses  of  fine  ladies  and 
gentlemen  he  was  exceedingly  severe. 

Why  couldn't  everybody  keep  straight  as  he  himself 
had  always  kept  ? 

"Why  do  you  bother  about  Cocky  and  your  sister?" 
he  said  to  Hurstmanceaux,  whom  he  had  known  from  a 
child,  as  they  sat  alone  in  the  ducal  smoking-room.  "  If 
Cocky  and  your  sister  had  a  million  a  year  to-morrow 
they'd  want  a  million  and  a  half  when  the  year  ended. 
There  are  people  like  that:  you  can't  alter 'em.  Their 
receptivity  is  always  greater  than  what  they  receive. 
Their  maw's  bigger  than  the  biggest  morsel  you  can  put 
into  it.  Don't  strip  yourself  for  them.  You  might  as 
well  go  without  your  bath  for  fear  the  Thames  should  run 
dry." 

Daddy  was  so  fond  of  pretty  women  (platonically)  that 
he  generally  forgave  them  all  their  sins,  which  was  the 
easier  because  they  were  not  sins  against  himself.  But 
Lady  Kenil worth,  though  he  admired  her,  he  did  not  like 
her ;  he  gave  her  a  little  sly  pat  whenever  he  could. 

She  yawned  when  he  talked,  which  nobody  else  ever 


THE  MASSARENES.  119 

did,  and  once,  when  they  were  staying  at  the  same  coun- 
try house,  when  he  had  offered  to  ride  with  her,  she  had 
told  him  in  plain  terms  that  she  didn't  care  for  old  men  in 
the  saddle  or  out  of  it. 

It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  forget  and  forgive  such 
a  reply,  even  though  you  were  the  best  natured  man  in 
the  world.  He  could  not  do  her  much  harm,  for  Mouse 
was  at  that  height  of  beauty,  fashion  and  renown  at 
which  a  person  is  absolutely  unassailable;  but  when  he  ' 
could  breathe  on  the  mirror  of  her  charms  and  dull  it,  he 
did  so ;  when  he  could  slip  a  little  stone  under  the 
smoothly -rolling  wheel  of  her  life's  triumphal  chariot,  he 
did  so.  It  was  but  rarely.  She  was  a  very  popular  per- 
son. Her  elastic  spirit,  her  beauty,  her  grace,  her  untir- 
ing readiness  for  pleasure,  all  made  her  welcome  in 
society;  her  very  insolence  was  charming,  and  her  word 
was  law  on  matters  of  fashion.  She  was  often  unkind, 
often  malicious,  always  selfish,  always  cruel,  but  these 
qualities  served  to  intimidate  and  added  to  her  potency. 
People  trembled  for  her  verdict  and  supplicated  for  her 
presence.  Whether  she  were  leading  the  cotillon  or  the 
first  flight,  whether  she  was  forming  a  costume  quadrille 
or  bringing  down  a  rocksetter,  she  was  equally  admirable, 
and  although  she  excelled  in  masculine  sports  she  had  the 
tact  always  to  remain  exquisitely  feminine  in  appearance 
and  style.  She  had  had  also  the  tact  and  the  good  luck 
always  to  preserve  her  position.  She  had  always  done 
what  she  liked,  but  she  had  always  done  it  in  such  a  way 
that  it  had  never  injured  her. 


120  THE  MASSAEENES. 


CHAPTER    X. 

A  WEEK  or  two  later  Hurstmanceaux  saw  a  paragraph  in 
the  morning  papers  which  made  him  throw  them  hastily 
aside,  leave  his  breakfast  unfinished,  and  go  to  his  sister's 
house  in  Stanhope  Street.  Her  ladyship  was  in  her  bath. 
"  Say  I  shall  return  in  half  an  hour.  I  come  on  an  urgent 
matter.''  Leaving  that  message  with  her  servants  he 
went  to  walk  away  the  time  in  the  Park.  It  was  a  fine  and 
breezy  morning,  but  Hurstmanceaux,  who  always  hated 
the  town,  saw  no  beauty  in  the  budding  elms,  or  the 
cycling  women,  or  even  in  Jack  or  Boo,  who  were  trot- 
ting along  on  their  little  black  Shetlands.  When  the  time 
was  up  he  waited  restlessly  another  half  hour  in  his 
sister's  boudoir,  where  he  felt  and  looked  like  a  St.  Ber- 
nard dog  shut  up  in  a  pen  at  a  show. 

She  at  last  made  her  appearance,  looking  charming, 
with  her  hair  scarce  dry  gathered  loosely  up  with  a  tur- 
quoise-studded comb  and  a  morning-gown  of  cloudy  lace 
and  chiffon  floating  about  her  ;  a  modern  Aphrodite. 

"  You  have  made  your  husband  a  director  in  the  City," 
said  Hurstmanceaux  without  preface,  almost  before  she 
had  entered  the  room. 

She  was  prepared  for  the  attack  and  smiled,  rather  im- 
pertinently. 

"  What  does  it  matter  to  you,  Ronnie  ?  " 

"  A  director  of  a  bank  ! " 

"  Tisn't  your  bank,  is  it  ?  " 

"  A  director  of  a  bank ! "  he  repeated.  It  seemed  to 
him  so  monstrous,  so  shocking  that  he  had  no  words  left. 

"They  won't  let  him  into  the  strong-room,"  said 
Cocky's  wife.  "  It  may  be  rather  absurd ;  but  it  isn't 
more  absurd  than  numbers  of  other  things — than  your 
being  asked  to  be  a  mayor,  for  instance." 

"  If  I  had  accepted  I  should  not  have  disgraced  the 
mayoralty." 


THE  MASSARENE8.  121 

"  Cocky  won't  disgrace  anything.  They'll  look  after 
him." 

"Who  did  it?" 

"Is  that  your  business,  dear  Ronnie?" 

"  Oh,  of  course,  it  was  that  miserable  cad  from  Dakota, 
whom  you  forced  through  the  gates  of  Otterbourne 
House." 

u  If  you  know,  why  ask?  " 

"  What  an  insult  to  us  all !  What  a  position  to  put  us 
in  !  When  everybody's  seen  the  man  at  your  ball  where 
we  all  were !  " 

His  indignation  and  emotion  checked  his  utterance. 

His  sister  laughed  a*  little,  but  she  was  bored  and 
annoyed.  What  business  was  it  of  his  ?  Why  could  she 
not  be  let  alone  to  arrange  these  little  matters  to  her  own 
convenience  in  any  ingenious  way  she  chose  ? 

"  How  could  you  make  the  duke  appear  to  play  such  a 
part  ?  "  said  Hnrstrnanceaux.  "  He  is  the  soul  of  honor 
and  of  proper  pride.  What  have  you  made  him  look  like  ? 
It  is  the  kind  of  thing  that  is  a  disgrace  to  the  country  ! 
It  is  the  kind  of  thing  that  makes  the  whole  peerage 
ridiculous  and  contemptible.  Imagine  what  the  Radical 
press  will  say!  Such  scandalous  jobbery  justifies  the 
worst  accusations." 

"Don't  read  the  Radical  newspapers  then.  I  shall  read 
them,  because  they  will  be  so  deliciously  funny.  They 
are  always  so  amusing  about  Cocky." 

"  You  have  singular  notions  of  amusement.  I  do  not 
share  them." 

"  I  know  you  don't.  You  are  always  on  stilts.  You 
never  see  the  comedy  of  Cocky." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  comedy  of  what  is  disreputable  and 
dishonorable.  His  father  will  be  most  cruelly  distressed." 

"He  should  give  us  more  money  then.  We  must  do 
what  we  can  to  keep  ourselves ;  Poodle  never  helps  us. 
Well — hardly  ever." 

Hurstmanceaux  emitted  a  sound  very  like  a  big  dog's 
growl. 

"  Otterbourne  has  been  endlessly  good  to  you.  It  is  no 
use  for  him  or  anybody  else  to  fill  a  sieve  with  water." 

"Why  don't  he  give  us  the  house  ?     We  are  obliged  to 


122  THE  MASSABENES. 

pay  fifteen  hundred  a  year  for  this  nutshell,  while  he  lives 
all  alone  in  that  huge  place." 

"  Why  should  he  not  live  in  his  own  house  ?  What  de* 
cent  gentleman  would  have  Cocky  under  his  roof?" 

"  You  hava  no  kind  of  feeling,  lionnie.  I  ought  to  have 
Otterbourne  House.  I  have  always  said  so.  I  can't  give 
a  ball  here.  Not  even  a  little  dance.  Poodle  might  keep 
his  own  apartments,  those  he  uses  on  the  ground  floor 
there,  but  we  ought  to  have  all  the  rest." 

"He  allowed  you  to  have  that  ball  there  the  other 
night,  and  all  the  cost  of  it  fell  on  him." 

"  That  is  a  great  deal  for  him  to  do  certainly !  To  lend 
us  the  house  once  in  a  season  wlfen  it  is  our  right  to  live 
in  it  altogether !  " 

"  He  does  not  think  so." 

"No!  Horrid  selfish  old  man!  Pretending  to  be 
young,  too,  with  his  flossy  white  hair  and  his  absurd  flir- 
tations. Would  you  believe  that  he  even  made  difficul- 
ties about  our  keeping  our  horses  at  his  mews  !  " 

"  He  probably  knew  that  it  meant  his  paying  the  forage 
bills.  The  duke  is  most  generous  and  kind,  and  I  think 
you  ought  to  be  more  grateful  to  him  than  you  are." 

"  Oh,  rubbish  !  "  said  Mouse,  infinitely  bored.  "  People 
who  hate  you  to  amuse  yourself,  who  want  you  to  live  on 
a  halfpenny  a  day,  and  who  say  something  disagreeable 
whenever  they  open  their  lips,  are  always  considered  to 
be  good  to  one.  There  is  only  one  realty  good-natured 
thing  that  we  ever  wanted  Poodle  to  do,  and  that  was  to 
let  us  live  in  Otterbourne  House ;  and  he  has  always  re- 
fused. I  am  certain  he  will  go  on  living  for  twenty  years 
merely  to  keep  us  out  of  it !  " 

"  Don't  wish  him  in  his  grave.  As  soon  as  your  hus- 
band gets  Otterbourne  House  he  will  sell  it  to  make  an 
hotel.  A  company  has  already  spoken  to  him." 

"  Isn't  it  in  the  entail  ?  " 

"Perhaps.  I  cannot  sa}^.  Ask  your  lawyer.  But  I 
know  that  an  hotel  company  has  made  overtures  to  him 
for  purchase  or  lease  in  event  of  the  duke's  death — may  it 
be  many  a  day  distant !  He  is  an  honest  gentleman,  and 
you  and  your  husband  and  your  cursed  cad  out  of  Dakota 
have  made  him  look  to  English  society  as  if  he  were 


THE,  MASSARENES.  123 

capable  of  having  sold  the  honor  of  entrance  to  his  house 
for  a  mess  of  pottage  for  his  son's  thirsty  maw." 

"My  dear  Ronald,  how  you  excite  yourself!  Really 
there  is  no  reason." 

Hurstmanceaux  looked  at  her  very  wistfully. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  dishonor  of  what  you've  done  ?  "  he 
said  impatiently.  "  You  coax  and  persecute  Otterbourne 
until  he  allows  you  to  take  those  new  people  to  his  house, 
and  then  you  let  the  cad  you  take  there  make  your  hus- 
band a  director  of  a  bank  of  which  the  man  is  chairman ! 
Can't  you  see  to  what  comment  you  expose  us  all  ?  Of 
what  wretched  manoeuvring  you  make  us  all  look  guilty  ? 
Have  you  any  perception,  no  conscience,  no  common  de- 
cency? If  Cocky  were  another  kind  of  man  than  he  is, 
such  a  thing  would  look  a  job.  But  being  what  he  is,  the 
transaction  is  something  still  more  infamous." 

She  listened,  so  much  amused,  that  she  really  could 
scarcely  feel  angry. 

"My  dear  Ronald,"  she  said  very  impertinently,  "you 
have  a  morality  altogether  of  your  own ;  it  is  so  ex- 
tremely old-fashioned  that  you  can't  expect  anybody  to 
make  themselves  ridiculous  by  adopting  it.  As  for  'a 
job,'  isn't  the  whole  of  government  a  job  ?  When  you've 
cleaned  out  Downing  Street  it  will  be  time  to  bring  your 
brooms  in  here." 

At  that  moment  Cocky  put  his  head  in  between  the 
door  curtains  and  nodded  to  Hurstmanceaux.  "  She's 
made  me  a  guinea-pig,  Ronnie,"  he  said,  with  his  little 
thin  laugh.  "  Didn't  think  I  should  take  to  business,  did 
you  ?  Have  you  seen  the  papers  ?  Lord,  they're  such 
fun !  I've  bought  ten  copies  of  Truth." 

His  wife  laughed. 

"  It's  no  use  reading  Truth  to  Ronnie.  He's  no  sense 
of  fun  ;  he  never  had." 

"  I  have  some  sense  of  shame,"  replied  Hurstmanceaux, 
looking  with  loathing  on  his  brother-in-law's  thin,  color- 
less, grinning  face.  "It  is  an  old-fashioned  thing;  but  if 
this  wretched  little  cur  were  not  too  feeble  for  a  man  to 
touch,  I  would  teach  him  some  respect  for  it  with  a 
hunting-crop." 

Then  he  pushed  past  Cocky,  who  was  still  between  the 


24  THE  MASSARENES. 

door-curtains,  and  went  downstairs  to  take  his  way  to 
Otterbourne  House. 

Cocky  laughed  shrilly  and  gleefully. 

"Jove!  what  a  wax  he's  in,"  said  Cocky,  greatly 
diverted.  "  Just  as  if  he  didn't  know  us  by  this  time  ! " 

"  He  is  always  so  absurd,"  replied  Mouse.  "  He  has  no 
common  sense  and  no  perception." 

"  He  ought  to  go  about  in  chain  armor,"  said  Cocky, 
picking  up  Truth  and  reading  for  the  fourth  time,  with 
infinite  relish,  the  description  of  himself  as  an  "  Heredi- 
tary Legislator  in  Mincing  Lane."  "  I  am  not  a  heredi- 
tary legislator  yet,"  he  said  as  he  read.  "As  I  don't  get 
the  halfpence,  why  should  I  get  the  kicks  ?  That's  what 
I  said  to  the  mob  in  the  park.  Break  the  pater's  win- 
dows, don't  break  mine.  I'm  plain  John  Orme,  without 
a  shilling  to  bless  myself  with,  and  the  beggars  cheered 
me  !  They'll  cheer  you  for  any  rot  if  they're  only  in  the 
mood  for  it ;  and  if  they  aren't  in  the  mood,  you  might 
talk  like  Moses  and  Mahomet,  they'd  bawl  you  down- 
on,  get  out  you  little  beasts,  damn  you !  " 

This  objurgation  was  addressed  to  the  Blenheims,  who, 
suddenly  becoming  aware  of  his  presence,  made  for  his 
trousers  with  that  conviction  that  his  immediate  destruc- 
tion would  be  a  public  service,  which  they  shared  with 
the  editor  of  Truth. 

Hurstmanceaux  walked  through  the  streets  and  felt  his 
ears  tingle  as  he  heard  the  newsboys  shouting  the  names 
of  newspapers. 

His  sister  had  said  rightly  ;  he  was  not  a  man  of  his 
time  ;  he  was  impetuous  in  action,  warm  in  feeling,  sensi- 
tive in  honor;  he  had  nothing  of  the  cynical  morality, 
the  apathetic  indifference,  the  cool  opportunism  of  modern 
men  of  his  age.  He  was  no  philosopher,  and  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  smile  at  an  unprincipled  action.  He 
felt  as  ashamed  as  though  he  were  himself  at  fault,  as  he 
entered  the  duke's  apartments  in  Otterbourne  House. 

Hurstmanceaux  and  the  duke  had  much  regard  for  each 
other,  but  their  conversation  was  usually  somewhat 
guarded  and  reserved,  for  the  one  could  not  say  all  he 
thought  of  Otterbourne's  son,  and  the  other  could  not 
say  all  he  thought  of  Ronald's  sister.  There  were  many 


TH'E  MASSAEENES.  125 

subjects  on  which  they  mutually  preserved  silence.  But 
this  appointment  of  Keiiilworth  seemed  so  monstrous  to 
both  that  it  broke  the  reserve  between  them.  They  each 
felt  to  owe  the  other  an  apology. 

"My  dear  Ronald,"  said  the  duke,  holding  out  his 
hand,  "  I  know  why  you  have  come.  I  thank  you." 

"  I  dare  not  offer  any  plea  in  her  defence,"  replied 
Hurstmanceaux  huskily;  "  I  can  only  tell  you  how  grieved 
I  am  that  your  constant  kindness  and  forbearance  to  my 
sister  should  meet  with  so  base  a  requital." 

The  duke  sighed. 

"  I  am  bound  in  honor  to  remember  that  the  basest  of 
men  is  her  husband — and  my  son  !  " 

They  were  both  silent. 

The  morning  papers  were  lying  on  a  table  by  the 
duke's  side,  amongst  them  the  green  cover  of  Truth. 

"  That  is  no  excuse  for  her,"  said  her  brother  at  length. 
"  This  thing  is  of  her  devising  much  more  than  it  is  his." 

"  There  are  women  who  are  a  moral  phylloxera,"  re- 
plied Otterbourne.  "They  corrupt  all  they  touch.  But 
in  fairness  to  her  I  must  say  that  it  was  chiefly  my  son 
who  persuaded  me  to  let  this  man  Massarene  into  my 
house.  They  made  me  an  accomplice  in  a  job!  Per- 
haps," the  duke  added  with  a  sad  smile,  "  the  world 
knows  me  well  enough  to  give  me  credit  for  having  been 
an  unconscious  accomplice — for  having  been  a  fool,  not  a 
knave !  " 

To  these  two  honest  gentlemen  the  matter  was  one  of 
excruciating  pain,  and  of  what  seemed  to  them  both  in- 
tolerable humiliation.  But  society,  though  it  laughed 
loudly  for  five  minutes  over  the  article  on  an  hereditary 
legislator,  forgot  it  five  minutes  later,  and  was  not 
shocked :  it  is  too  well-used  in  these  days  to  similar 
transactions  between  an  impoverished  nobility,  with  un- 
paid rents  and  ruinous  death-duties,  and  a  new-born  plu- 
tocracy creeping  upward  on  its  swollen  belly  like  the  ser- 
pent of  Scripture. 


\2Q  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  YOUNG  woman,  dressed  in  white  cambric,  with  the 
deep  shade  of  a  magnolia  grove  cast  upon  her  as  she  sat 
on  the  marble  steps  of  an  Oriental  garden,  read  of  these 
brilliant  festivities  in  various  English  journals  whose 
office  it  is  to  chronicle  such  matters ;  and  as  she  read  she 
frowned,  and  as  she  frowned  she  sighed.  "  Oh,  the 
waste,  the  folly,  the  disgrace !  "  she  murmured  as  she 
pushed  the  newspapers  away  from  her.  For  she  had 
peculiar  views  of  her  own,  and  had  little  or  nothing  in 
common  with  her  generation  or  with  her  procreators. 
She  looked  very  like  her  bust  by  Dalou  as  she  thrust  the 
offending  journals  off  her  lap. 

"  I  am  a  declassee"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  sat 
amongst  the  rhododendrons  and  the  monkeys.  "  All 
they  have  spent  on  me  cannot  make  me  anything  more. 
They  should  have  left  me  in  the  place  which  they  occupied 
when  I  was  born.  I  would  sooner  go  out  as  a  common 
servant  any  day  than  be  forced  to  witness  their  ignominy 
and  live  in  their  suffocating  wealth,  to  see  the  laugh  in 
the  eyes  of  the  people  they  toady,  and  overhear  the  ridi- 
cule of  those  who  crowd  to  their  supper-table.  If  he 
would  only  disown  me — cut  me  off  with  a  shilling  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  Bad  news  from  En- 
gland ?  Parents  ill  ?  "  said  a  mellow  and  cheerful  voice, 
as  the  temporary  owner  of  terrace  and  magnolia  grove, 
Lord  Framlingham,  came  out  of  the  house  and  across  the 
rough  grass,  accompanied  by  his  two  inseparable  compan- 
ions, his  cigarette  and  his  skye-terrior. 

She  picked  up  one  of  the  newspapers  and  pointed  to  a 
paragraph  in  it. 

"  They  must  be  the  laugh  of  London  I  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  you  don't  know  London,"  said  her  host 
as  he  read.  "  They  will  be  the  idols  of  London,  the 
very  Buddha  of  solid  gold  that  its  smart  people  most  de- 


T3E  MASSARENES.  127 

light  to  adore.  Look  at  the  whole  thing  as  a  comedy, 
my  child,  and  you  will  enjoy  it." 

"  I  once  spoke  to  a  clown's  wife  at  a  circus,"  said 
Katberine  Massarene.  "While  the  clown  was  making 
the  audience  scream  with  laughter,  she  was  crying.  fc  I 
can't  help  crying,'  she  said,  'to  see  my  man  make  a  butt 
and  a  guy  of  himself.  He's  nabbut  a  tomfool  to  them, 
but  he's  my  man  to  me.'  I  am  as  foolish  as  the  clown's 
wife." 

"  I  can't  admit  the  analogy,"  said  her  host.  "  I  think 
you  take  the  thing  too  seriously.  Your  people's  position 
is  a  common  one  enough  in  our  days.  When  anybody 
has  made  a  heap  of  money  they  are  never  happy  till  they 
get  a  mob  of  smart  beggars  to  crowd  round  'em  and  pick 
their  pockets.  How  would  smart  society  go  on  unless 
there  were  these  feeders  for  it  to  fatten  on  ?  If  I  were 
your  father  I  should  keep  my  money  in  my  pocket  and 
snap  my  fingers  at  smart  society.  But  then,  you  see,  I 
know  what  smart  society  is  and  he  doesn't." 

"But  why  should  he  want  to  know?  He  is  not  made 
for  it.  It  only  laughs  at  him." 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,  I  am  sure  it  does  more  than  laugh ;  I 
am  sure  it  plunders  him  as  well.  I  only  hope  that  he  will 
know  when  to  cry  'stop,  thief! '  for  if  he  doesn't  all  his 
millions  will  go  into  the  maw  of  his  fine  friends." 

Katherine  Massarene  sighed. 

"  My  father  will  never  lose  except  when  he  chooses  to 
do  so.  If  they  use  him,  he  uses  them.  It  is  a  quid  pro 
quo.  It  is  a  question  of  barter.  But  that  is  what  is  so 
disgraceful  about  it." 

"  I  have  said,"  replied  her  host,  "  I  think  if  I  were  an 
intelligent  man  who  had  made  a  pot  of  money  by  my  own 
exertions,  as  Mr.  Massarene  has  done,  that  I  should  not 
care  a  damn  (excuse  the  word)  for  all  the  fine  folks  in 
creation.  Certainly  I  should  not  care  to  waste  my  money 
upon  them.  But  the  fact  is  that  all  these  new  men  do 
care  for  that  and  that  alone.  They  appear  wholly  to  un- 
derrate themselves  and  their  own  accomplishment,  and 
care  only  to  be  rooked  by  a  set  of  idle  loungers  with  han- 
dles to  their  names.  It  is  not  they  who  will  ever  destroy 
the  Upper  House." 


128  THE  MASSARENE8. 

"  No,"  said  his  guest  bitterly.  "An  earl  can  see  and 
say  that  the  days  of  the  Upper  House  are  numbered,  but 
my  father  regards  it  as  the  holy  of  holies  because  he 
means  to  seat  himself  in  its  gilded  chamber." 

"It's  Joe  Chamberlain's  reason  too,"  said  Framlingham 
with  a  chuckle.  "  When  we  make  peers  of  the  trades- 
men, my  dear,  we  know  what  we  are  about;  we  are  sol- 
dering our  own  leaking  pot." 

"  Solder  it  with  other  men's  smelted  gold  ?  You  had 
better  break  it  up  honestly  as  a  thing  which  has  had  its 
day  and  is  done  with." 

"Poor  old  pot !  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  bury  it 
for  good  and  all  on  Runny mede  island.  But  I  think  you 
exaggerate  a  little — I  must  say  you  exaggerate.  And  you 
totally  ignore  a  fact  which  has  been  put  on  record  by 
every  English  sociologist  and  historian,  that  it  has  been 
its  frank  admission  to  its  ranks  of  novi  homines  which  has 
kept  the  English  aristocracy  vigorous  and  popular." 

She  gave  a  scornful  gesture  of  denial. 

"  It  is  the  novi  homines  who  have  degraded  the  English 
aristocracy.  Pardon  me  if  I  contradict  you.  Mr.  Mai- 
lock  has  written  very  kind  and  possibly  very  just  things 
of  your  nobility,  but  he  has  forgotten  to  satirize  its  most 
shameful  infirmity,  its  moral  scrofula — its  incessant  and 
unblushing  prostration  of  itself  before  wealth  qua  wealth. 
It  likes  hothouse  pines  and  can  no  longer  afford  to  keep 
them  for  its  own  eating.  It  can  only  grow  them  for  sale 
and  eat  them  at  the  tables  of  those  who  buy  them." 

"  That  is  very  severe  !  " 

"  Who  would  be  less  severe  who  had  seen  anything  at 
all  of  Paris,  of  London,  of  Nice,  of  Biarritz,  of  any  place 
where  modern  society  disports  itself?" 

Framlingham  laughed. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Massarene,  you  delight  me  beyond  ex- 
pression, but  I  can  imagine  that  you  are,  to  a  parent  who 
adores  princes  and  means  to  die  a  peer,  rather — rather — - 
forgive  a  vulgar  word — rather  a  handful." 

"  My  father  has  purchased  a  place  called  Vale  Royal," 
continued  Katherine.  "You  know  it?  Well,  he  wishes 
to  be  there  plus  royaliste  que  le  roi.  In  the  leases  he  gives 
to  his  farmers  they  are  bound  over  to  pay  <£40  for  every 


THE  HASSAEENES.  129 

pheasant  killed  or  maimed  on  their  ground.  Is  it  not 
out-heroding  Herod  ?  He  cares  nothing  for  such  trump- 
erf'  spc  rt  himself ;  he  has  killed  grizzlies  and  negroes  and 
train -lifters  ;  he  would  care  nothing  to  fire  at  a  flock  of 
frightened  hand-fed  birds ;  but  he  wishes  to  tempt  princes 
and  lords  to  his  coverts  and  to  see  the  bags  made  on  his 
estate  cited  in  newspapers.  Who  set  him  that  base  ex- 
ample? Princes  and  lords  themselves." 

"  No  estates  would  be  kept  up  but  for  the  game/'  said 
her  host,  rather  feebly  as  he  felt. 

"  What  satire  can  be  so  withering  as  such  a  statement  ? 
There  is  then  no  love  of  hereditary  lands,  no  sense  of 
woodland  beauty,  no  interest  in  fur  or  feather  without 
slaughter  attached  to  them,  no  tenderness  for  tradition 
and  for  nature?  Nothing,  nothing  whatever,  of  such 
pride  in  and  affection  for  the  soil  itself  as  Shakspeare  felt, 
who  only  owned  a  little  rural  freehold  ?  Who  can  con- 
demn you  as  utterly  as  you  condemn  yourselves  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  are  rather  useful  sometimes,"  he  said 
humbly. 

"  Oh,  very !  You  vote  against  marriage  with  a  deceased 
wife's  sister  and  maintain  the  game  laws ! 

"I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  parents'  origin,  Lord  Fram- 
lingham,  I  assure  you,"  she  added  after  a  pause.  "  I  am 
ashamed  that  they  are  ashamed  of  it." 

"I  understand,  my  dear,  and  I  sympathize,  though  I 
suppose  not  many  people  would  do  either.  You  see,  we 
all  have  our  crosses.  My  daughters  have  to  endure  the 
misery  of  a  conspicuous  rank  with  wholly  inadequate 
means — a  more  trying  position  than  you  can  imagine." 

"  I  should  not  mind  that." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  would.  It  is  humiliation  at  every  turn. 
It  is  to  be  checked  in  every  generous  impulse,  to  spend 
half  your  time  in  efforts  to  make  a  five-pound  note  do  the 
work  of  ten  sovereigns ;  it  is  to  wear  your  George  and 
Garter  over  a  ragged  shirt,  and  knock  your  diamond  tiara 
against  the  roof  of  a  hackney  cab.  I  know  what  I  am 
talking  about,  my  dear,  as  most  unhappy  English  land- 
owners do  in  this  year  of  grace.  I  know  that  there  is  no 
misery  so  accursed  as  the  combination  of  high  place  and 
narrow  means.  I  came  out  here  to  relieve  the  strain  a 
9 


130  THE  MASSAEENES. 

little.  It  was  worse  for  the  women  than  for  me.  You, 
my  dear,  are  a  high-mettled  pony  which  kicks  at  carrying 
the  money-bags.  But  my  poor  girls  are  high-mettled 
ponies  which  sweat  under  the  halter  and  the  cobble. 
That's  a  good  deal  worse.  You'll  have  to  buy  a  fine  name 
with  your  big  dower.  But  they  will  have  to  take  what 
offers  first,  for  they  must  go  to  their  husbands  portionless, 
or  nearly  so.  And  we  were  Thanes  in  Alfred's  time,  my 
dear,  and  we  fought  for  Harold  tooth  and  nail,  and  we 
were  at  Runnyrnede,  and  at  Bosworth,  and  at  Tewkes- 
bury,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  our  name  is  as  old  as  the 
very  hills  round  the  Wrekin ;  and  that,  you  see,  is  what 
an  ancient  lineage  is  worth  in  these  days.  Your  father 
has  the  better  part." 

Katherine  shook  her  head. 

"And  honor  ?  "  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

Lord  Framlingham  laughed  grimly. 

"  When  one  is  in  debt  to  one's  banker  and  one's  trades- 
men, and  has  to  let  one's  place  to  a  sugar-baker,  the  less 
said  about  honor  the  better.  I  wish  I  were  a  monkey— 
don't  you  wish  you  were  one  ?  They  get  such  fun  out  of 
each  other's  tails,  and  it  must  be  such  a  jolly  life  swinging 
on  branches  and  living  on  fruits.  And  if  you  like  ancient 
lineage  look  at  theirs  !  " 

She  smiled,  but  her  heart  was  heavy.  She  knew  that 
she  could  not  alter  her  fate,  and  she  loathed  it. 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,"  she  said,  with  a  passing 
flush  coming  on  her  face.  "  Do  not  think  me  more  stoical 
or  philosophical  than  I  am.  It  is  probably  pride  not 
humility  which  makes  me  suffer  so  much  from  my  sense 
of  my  parents'  present  position.  If  I  had  been  born  in 
your  class,  in  your  world,  I  should  probably  have  been 
odiously  arrogant." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  could  be  *  odiously '  anything,  my 
dear,"  said  Lord  Framlingham  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can ;  I  know  it,  I  feel  it,  I  regret  it,  and 
yet  I  cannot  help  it.  When  I  am  in  their  world,  to  which 
we  have  no  right,  to  which  we  shall  be  only  welcomed  for 
reasons  as  discreditable  to  ourselves  as  to  those  who  wel- 
come us,  I  know  that  I  offend  everyone,  and  that  I  afflict, 
surprise  and  disappoint,  my  parents ;  but  I  cannot  be  oth- 


THE  MASSARENES.  131 

erwise ;  it  is  all  I  can  do  to  keep  in  unspoken  the  bitter 
truths  which  rise  to  my  lips." 

44  The  amari  aliquid  was  never  enclosed  in  a  fairer  crys- 
tal sphere,"  said  her  host  gallantly. 

"  I  never  would  have  left  my  mother,"  she  added,  "  but 
I  could  do  nothing.  I  was  only  the  helpless  spectator  of 
a  kind  of  effort  which  is  in  my  sight  the  most  ignoble,  the 
most  foolish  of  all,  the  endeavor  to  appear  what  one  is 
not,  and  never  can  be." 

44  You  take  it  too  much  to  heart,"  said  her  companion. 
44  You  do  not  make  allowance  for  the  times.  Your  people 
are  only  doing  what  every  person  who  has  made  money 
does  on  a  small  scale  or  a  big  scale,  according  to  their 
means.  Mr.  Massarene  is  immensely  rich,  and  so  his  as- 
pirations are  very  large  too." 

"Aspirations !  To  get  on  in  society,  to  have  great  per- 
sons to  dinner,  to  represent  in  Parliament  the  interest  of 
a  constituency  he  had  never  heard  of  a  year  ago,  to  get  a 
title,  though  my  brothers  are  all  dead,  to  entertain  troops 
of  people  who  scarcely  know  his  name  and  have  hardly 
the  decency  to  pretend  to  know  it,  do  you  call  that  as- 
piration ?  It  is  more  like  degradation.  Why  cannot  he 
remain  in  obsurity  spending  his  vast  fortune  for  the  good 
of  others  instead  of  squandering  it  on  idle  people,  impu- 
dent people,  worthless  people,  people  to  whom  he  is  a  jest, 
a  by-word  and  a  jeer  ?  " 

44  My  dear  young  lady,  money  is  power,"  said  Lord 
Framlingham.  4t  It  is  nothing  new  that  it  should  be  so  ; 
but  in  other  ages,  it  was  subordinate  to  many  greater 
powers  than  itself.  Now  it  is  practically  supreme ;  it  is 
practically  alone.  Aristocracy  in  its  true  sense  exists  no 
longer.  War  in  its  modern  form  is  wholly  a  question  of 
supply.  The  victory  will  go  to  who  can  pay  most  and 
longest.  The  religious  orders,  once  so  absolute,  are  now 
timid  anarchronisms  quaking  before  secular  governments. 
Science,  which  cannot  move  a  step  without  funds,  goes 
cap  in  hand  to  the  rich.  Art  has  perished  nearly.  What 
is  left  of  it  does  the  same  thing  as  science.  The  Pope, 
who  ought  to  be  a  purely  spiritual  power,  is  mendicant 
and  begs  like  Belisarius.  What  remains  ?  Nothing  ex- 
cept trade,  and  trade  cannot  oppose  wealth,  because  it  lives 


132  THE  MASSARENES. 

solely  through  it.  For  this  reason,  money,  mere  money, 
with  no  other  qualities  or  attractions  behind  it,  is  omnipo- 
tent now  as  it  never  was  before  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  It  is  not  one  person  or  set  of  persons  who  is  re- 
sponsible for  this.  It  is  the  tendency  of  the  age,  an 
age  which  is  essentially  mercenary  and  is  very  little  else! 
In  politics,  as  in  war  and  in  science,  there  is  no  moving  a, 
step  without  money  and  much  money.  The  least  corrupt" 
election  costs  a  large  outlay.  Royalty  recognizing  that 
money  is  stronger  than  itself,  courts  men  of  money,  bor- 
rows from  them,  and  puts  out  in  foreign  stocks  where  it 
borrows  as  a  reserve  fund  against  exile.  You  see  there  is 
no  power  left  which  can,  or  dare,  attempt  to  oppose  the 
undisputed  sway  of  money.  A  great  evil,  you  say?  No 
doubt." 

She  sighed ;  she  recognized  the  truth  of  all  he  said ;  but 
she  loathed  the  fact  she  was  compelled  by  her  reason  to 
acknowledge. 

"  '  When  she's  convinced  against  her  will 
She's  of  the  same  opinion  still,'  " 

quoted  Framlingham.  "Come,  my  dear,  let's  go  and 
have  a  game  of  tennis." 

Katherine  Massarene,  whose  future  was  a  subject  of 
lively  speculation  to  many,  was  now  twenty-one  years 
old ;  she  looked  much  more  than  that  then,  and  twenty 
years  hence  will  probably  look  no  older.  At  five  years  of 
age,  notwithstanding  her  poor  mother's  tears  and  prayers, 
she  had  been  sent  to  the  care  of  a  gentlewoman  in  En- 
gland, who  lived  at  Eastbourne  and  received  only  half  a 
dozen  children  to  educate,  with  two  of  her  own.  The 
lady  had  been  recommended  to  William  Massarene  by  the 
English  minister  at  Washington  ;  and  the  influence  of  that 
gentleman  had  been  exercised  in  persuading  her  to  con- 
sent to  receive  against  her  rules  a  little  ignorant  obscure 
brat  from  Dakota. 

"  Make  her  happy  and  keep  her  well,  ma'am,  for  she's 
all  we've  got,"  wrote  her  poor  mother. 

"  Make  her  English,  ma'am,  and  fit  to  hold  her  head 
with  the  highest,  for  she'll  mean  gold,"  wrote  her  father. 

The  lady    disliked    excessively    accepting    a     charge 


THE  MASSARENES.  133 

which  was  alien  to  her  habits  and  nright  injure  the 
tone  of  her  house;  but  she  was  under  obligations  to  the 
English  minister,  and  reluctantly  consented  to  take  into 
her  home  this  one  little  girl  who  had  great  astonished  un- 
winking eyes  like  an  owl's,  and  who  said  to  her  with  a 
dreadful  nasal  accent :  "  Don't  grin  when  I  speak,  or  I'll 
hit  yer." 

For  twelve  years  she  remained  under  this  lady's  care, 
being  trained  in  all  exercises  of  the  mind  and  body,  and 
becoming  a  calm  cold  high-bred  girl  who  looked  as  if  she 
had  a  thousand  years  behind  her  of  old  nobility  and 
gracious  memories.  Of  her  parents  she  saw  nothing,  and 
only  heard  that  they  were  extremely  rich.  But  the  orthog- 
raphy of  her  mother's  letters,  and  the  style  of  her  father's 
few  lines,  always  made  her  uneasy,  and  the  recollections 
of  life  in  Dakota  were  not  as  absolutely  obliterated  as  her 
parents  desired.  But  of  those  she  never  spoke  ;  she  di- 
vined what  was  expected  of  her.  Those  recollections  be- 
came increasingly  painful  as  with  increasing  perception 
she  could  construe  them  by  induction. 

When  in  her  eighteen  the  year  her  parents  came  for  the 
first  time  to  England,  she  could  only  see  in  them  strangers, 
and  strangers  who,  alas !  had  nothing  of  that  attraction 
which  bridges  the  distance  between  age  and  youth.  If 
what  she  felt  on  meeting  them  was  an  agony  of  disap- 
pointment and  a  sense  of  shame,  more  acute  because  it 
was  shut  close  in  her  own  breast,  they  were  themselves 
not  less  chagrined.  When  they  first  saw  her,  her  parents 
both  thought  that  she  did  not  give  them  great  results  for 
the  vast  sums  they  had  spent  on  her,  and  that  really  they 
would  have  turned  her  out  smarter  if  they  had  had  her 
brought  up  in  New  York.  The  art  of  gilding  gold  and 
painting  lilies  is  at  its  perihelion  in  the  empire  city.  He 
especially  was  disappointed  in  her  at  first ;  he  had  ex- 
pected her  to  make  more  show,  to  have  more  color,  to  be 
more  swagger,  as  the  slang  words  ran ;  this  tall,  proud, 
slender  young  woman,  who  wore  generally  black  or  grey 
in  the  day,  and  white  in  the  evening,  and  put  on  no  jewelry 
of  any  kind,  seemed  to  him  to  give  him  poor  value  for  the 
many  thousand  of  dollars  he  had  spent  on  her.  He  had 
intended  her  to  be  ultra  fashionable,  ultra  chic,  always  in 


134  THE  MASSARENES. 

the  swim,  always  in  the  first  flight ;  on  race-courses,  on 
yacht  decks,  on  the  box  seat  of  drags,  at  aristocratic  river 
clubs,  at  exclusive  and  crowded  little  suppers  after 
theatres. 

"  I  wanted  a  gal  of  fashion,  not  a  school-marm  !  "  he 
said  with  much  disgust,  when  the  lady  who  had  brought 
her  up  told  him  that  she  was  the  finest  Hellenist  of  her 
sex. 

He  did  not  know  what  a  Hellenist  was,  but  he  under- 
stood that  it  was  something  connected  with  teaching. 
What  he  wanted  was  something  very  showy,  very  sensa- 
tional, very  superfine.  But  Katherine  did  not  like  fash- 
ionable life  at  all.  A  very  little  of  it  wearied  her.  She 
did  not  like  a  man  to  lean  his  elbows  on  a  little,  round, 
tete-h-t&te  supper-table,  and  stare  at  her,  with  his  eyes 
within  six  inches  of  her  necklace,  and  his  champagne  and 
cigar-scented  breath  hot  in  her  face ;  and  she  did  not 
think  the  situation  made  more  agreeable  by  the  fact  that 
the  starer  was  illustrious.  She  infinitely  preferred  to  be 
alone  in  the  music-room  with  her  violin  and  harmonium, 
or  in  the  library  comparing  Jowett's  Dialogues  with  the 
original.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that  she  was  a  great 
disappointment  to  her  father,  though  a  sort  of  sullen  pride 
in  her  was  wrung  out  of  him  when  he  saw  how  indiffer- 
ent she  appeared  to  the  great  folks  he  adored,  yet  at  the 
same  time  how  at  home  she  seemed  in  the  mystic  arena 
of  that  society  which  made  him  shake  in  his  shoes,  strong, 
hard,  shrewd  man  though  he  was. 

Except  the  archduke  who  insisted  on  becoming  a  skip- 
per of  a  timber-brig,  so  infuriating  and  insensate  a  flying 
in  the  face  of  a  fair  fate  had  never  been  known.  Kather- 
ine Massarene  for  her  part  did  not  enter,  or  try  to  enter 
into  his  feelings,  as  no  doubt  it  should  have  been  her  filial 
duty  to  do.  She  had  some  of  his  stubbornness,  and  a 
pride  of  her  own  kind  which  made  her  unyielding.  Her 
numerous  teachers,  male  arid  female,  had  all  found  her  of 
unusual  intelligence  and  she  had  studied  the  classics  with 
ardor  and  thoroughness.  She  could  say  extremely  caus- 
tic and  witty  things,  but  she  generally  was  merciful  and 
forbore  to  say  them.  She  had  a  vast  reserve  of  sound  and 
unusual  knowledge,  but  she  endeavored  to  conceal  it,  dis- 


TEE  MA88ABENE8.  135 

liking  all  display,  and  being  by  nature  very  modest.  As, 
little  by  little,  she  began  gradually  to  understand  the 
position  of  her  parents,  she  suffered  from  it  acutely.  If 
she  could,  with  a  clear  conscience,  have  done  so,  she 
would  have  liked  to  renounce  all  their  wealth  and  gran- 
deur and  earn  her  own  living,  which  she  could  have 
earned  very  well  as  a  musician,  or  a  professor  of  history 
or  dead  languages.  { 

She  said  so  once  to  her  father,  on  his  arrival  in  England, 
and  the  rage  of  the  taciturn,  ruthless  man  was  so  terrible 
that  her  mother  on  her  knees  entreated  her  never  to  allude 
to  such  an  idea. 

"You  are  all  we  have  left,"  she  said,  weeping.  "  Your 
brothers  and  sisters  all  died  in  that  horrible  West.  You 
are  the  sole  one  he  has  to  look  to  for  bearing  his  name 
and  glorifying  his  money.  You  are  heir  and  heiress  both, 
Kathleen.  Has  he  slaved  and  spared  and  laid  by  thirty 
years  and  more  only  that  the  sole  begot  of  his  loins  shall 
disgrace  him  as  a  menial  ?  " 

"  Rise  up,  my  dear  mother ;  we  will  not  speak  of  it 
again,"  said  Katherine,  a  mere  schoolgirl  then  of  seven- 
teen. "  We  might  discuss  and  argue  for  ever,  neither  my 
father  nor  you  would  ever  see  these  things  as  I  see  them." 

And  with  great  self- control,  most  rare  in  one  of  her 
age,  she  renounced  her  dreams  of  independence  and  never 
did  allude  again  in  any  way  to  them. 

She  soon  perceived  that  whatever  chance  she  might 
have  had  of  influencing  her  mother,  she  had  none  what- 
ever of  moving  her  father  :  if  she  had  stood  in  his  way, 
he  would  have  brushed  her  aside,  or  trampled  her  down  ; 
he  had  not  made  his  money  to  lose  the  enjoyment  of  it 
for  the  quips  and  cranks  of  a  crotchety  child. 

Her  indifference  to  all  which  fascinated  and  awed  him- 
self compelled  his  reluctant  respect,  and  the  serene  hauteur 
of  her  habitual  manner  made  him  feel  awkward  and  in- 
significant in  her  presence.  He  was  in  some  respects, 
when  he  pitted  himself  against  her,  compelled  unwill- 
ingly to  acknowledge  that  she  was  the  stronger  of  the 
two.  She  had  hurt  him  enough  by  the  mere  accident  of 
her  sex.  He  never  forgave  her  that  she  had  lived  whilst 
her  brothers  had  died.  He  had  no  affection  for  her,  and 


136  THE  MASSARENES. 

only  a  sullen  unwilling  respect,  which  was  rung  out  of 
him  by  seeing  her  ease  in  that  world  where  he  was  uneasy 
and  her  familiarity  with  those  great  persons  before  whom 
he  was  always  himself  dumb  and  frightened  and  distressed. 

So  far,  at  least,  the  money  spent  on  her  had  not  been 
wasted,  it  had  made  her  one  of  them.  For  this  he  held 
her  in  respect,  but  she  could  not  move  him  a  hair's  breadth 
from  his  ambitions  or  his  methods  of  pursuing  them. 

These  methods  were  to  her  more  refined  taste  and  more 
penetrating  vision  absurd  and  odious.  She  knew  that  the 
great  world  would  use  him,  rook  him,  feed  on  him,  but 
would  always  laugh  at  him  and  never  see  in  him  anything 
except  a  snob.  She  knew  that  every  invitation  given  to 
him  or  accepted  from  him,  every  house-party  which  he  was 
allowed  to  gather,  or  allowed  to  join,  every  good  club 
which  he  was  put  up  for,  every  great  man  who  consented 
to  dine  with  him,  were  all  paid  for  by  him  at  enormous 
cost,  indirectly  indeed  but  none  the  less  extravagantly. 
She  knew  that  he  would  in  all  likelihood  live  to  do  all  he 
had  aspired  to  do  :  to  get  into  the  Commons,  perhaps  to 
get  into  the  Cabinet,  to  receive  royalty,  to  shake  hands 
with  princes  of  the  blood,  even  perhaps  to  die  a  peer.  But 
she  knew  that  all  this  would  be  done  by  purchase,  by 
giving  money,  by  lending  money,  by  spending  money 
largely  and  asking  no  questions,  by  doing  for  the  impov- 
erished great  what  Madame  de  Sevigne  called  manuring 
the  ground. 

To  her  taste,  success  and  rank  procured  in  such  a  manner 
left  you  precisely  where  you  were  before  its  purchase. 
She  knew  that  to  a  society  which  you  only  enter  on  suf- 
ferance you  remain  alwaj's  practically  outside  on  the  door-l 
mat ;  and  she  did  not  understand  that  to  the  soul  of  the1 
snob  even  the  dust  of  the  door-mat  is  sweet.  She  did  not 
understand  either  that  in  her  father's  case  the  door-mat 
was  but  one  of  the  preliminary  stages  of  the  triumphant 
career  which  he  had  mapped  out  in  his  brain  when  he 
had  first  put  one  dollar  on  another  in  Dakota. 

She  early  perceived  that  her  parents  looked  to  her  for 
assistance  in  their  ambitions,  but  she  was  obdurate  in 
giving  them  none  ;  they  called  her  undutiful,  and  un- 
dutiful  she  might  be ;  but  she  felt  that  she  would  rather 


THE  MASSARENES.  137 

be  guilty  of  any  offence  whatever  than  become  degraded 
and  servile.  So  extreme  was  her  resistance  on  this  point 
that  one  evening  it  brought  an  open  rupture  with  her 
father,  and  that  exile  to  India  of  which  Mrs.  Massarene 
had  not  told  all  the  truth  when  exhibiting  Dalont's  bust 
of  her  daughter. 

The  winter  before  their  acquaintance  with  Lady  Kenil- 
worth  the  Massarenes  had  been  at  Cannes  and  Monte 
Carlo,  following  that  smart  world  of  which  they  still 
vainly  pined  to  enter  the  arena.  They  had  not  as  yet 
found  their  guide,  philosopher,  arid  friend  in  the  fair 
mother  of  Jack  and  Boo,  and  William  Massarene  was  be- 
ginning to  fear  that  gold  was  not  the  all-potent  solvent 
he  had  believed  it.  But  a  very  high  personage,  whose 
notice  would  have  had  power  to  lift  them  at  once  into  the 
empyrean  was  also  at  Cannes  at  that  period,  and  the 
white-rose  skin  and  admirable  form  of  Katherine  Massa- 
rene attracted  him,  and  he  desired  that  she  should  be  pre- 
sented to  him.  Very  unwillingly,  very  coldly,  she  had 
submitted  to  her  fate  at  a  public  ball  to  which  she  had 
been  taken.  The  great  gentleman  asked  her  to  waltz. 
Neither  his  age  nor  his  figure  were  suited  to  the  dance, 
but  women  were  nevertheless  enchanted  to  be  embraced 
by  him  in  its  giddy  gyrations.  Katherine  excused  herself 
and  said  that  she  did  not  waltz. 

The  great  gentleman  was  annoyed  but  attracted;  he 
sat  out  the  dance  by  her  side  on  a  couch  in  a  little  shady 
corner  under  palm  trees  such  as  he  especially  favored. 
But  he  made  very  little  way  with  her;  she  was  chilly,  re- 
served, respectful.  "  Take  your  respect  to  the  devil," 
thought  the  misunderstood  prince. 

"  Why  are  you  so  very  unkind  to  me,  Miss  Massarene?" 
he  said  in  a  joking  fashion,  which  would  have  convulsed 
with  joy  every  other  women  in  those  rooms. 

tf  There  can  be  no  question  of  unkindness  from  me  to 
yourself,  sir,"  she  replied  more  distantly  still,  and  she 
looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes :  he  was  not  used  to  being 
looked  at  thus. 

He  had  drunk  more  wine  than  was  good  for  him ;  he 
tried  to  take  her  hand,  his  breath  was  hot  upon  her 
shoulder. 


138  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"  I'll  dine  with  your  father  if  you  ask  me,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

A  whole  world  of  suggestion  was  in  the  simple  phrase. 

Katherine  Massarene  drew  her  hand  away. 

"  Sir,"  she  said  very  distinctly ;  "  my  father  was  a  cow- 
herd and  my  mother  a  dairy-woman.  I  do  not  know  why 
you  should  do  them  the  honor  to  dine  with  them,  sir, 
merely  because  they  earned  money  in  America ! " 

Her  companion  had  never  received  such  a  "facer  "  in 
all  his  fifty  years  of  life.  Like  his  own  speech  it  suggested 
innumerable  things.  He  grew  very  red  and  his  glassy 
eyes  became  very  sullen. 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  he  rose  and 
offered  her  his  arm. 

"  Allow  me  to  take  you  back  to  your  chaperon,"  he  said 
in  glacial  accents  which  she  infinitely  preferred  to  his 
familiarity. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  him  ?  "  said  that  lady  as  he 
left  her  with  a  ceremonious  bow. 

"  I  have  told  him  a  truth,"  said  Katherine  indifferently. 
44 1  suppose  it  is  too  strong  diet  for  him.  He  is  not  used 
to  it!" 

44 1  should  think  not  indeed  !  "  said  the  lady,  much  dis- 
turbed. "  What  can  you  have  said  ?  " 

44  He  will  probably  tell  people,"  said  Katherine.  "  If  he 
do  not,  I  shall  not." 

He  did,  not  very  wisely,  tell  two  of  his  boon  compan- 
ions that  same  night  as  they  sat  smoking  with  him. 

Of  course  the  story  ran  about  the  Riviera  next  day  from 
Monaco  to  Hyferes,  taking  protean  forms,  and  changing 
with  every  tongue  that  told  it. 

One  of  its  versions,  one  of  the  most  accurate,  reached 
the  ears  of  William  Massarene. 

His  nickname  in  the  States  had  been  "Blasted  Blizzard," 
and  his  temper  was  such  as  corresponded  with  the  name. 
His  wrath  wras  terrible.  From  his  point  of  view  it  was 
justified.  His  wife,  trembling  like  a  leaf  in  a  hurricane, 
was  paralyzed  with  fear.  His  daughter  remained  calm. 
She  did  not  for  an  instant  admit  that  she  was  at  fault, 
although  she  regretted  that  any  cause  for  anger  should 
arise  between  her  and  her  parents. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  139 

"  You  shall  apologize  ! "  he  swore  a  dozen  times. 

"  I  shall  certainly  never  do  that,"  said  Katherine  with 
contemptuous  composure. 

"  You  shall  apologize  in  public !  " 

"  Neither  in  public,  nor  in  private." 

"  You  shall  go  on  your  knees  to  him,  if  I  flog  you  on  to 
them  !  "  yelled  Mr.  Massarene. 

"My  dear  father,  pray  keep  within  the  laws  of  that 
*  good  society '  into  which  you  have  been  so  anxious  to 
enter,"  she  said,  with  a  delicate  scorn,  which  he  felt 
through  all  his  tough  hide  like  the  tingling  strokes  of  the 
whip  with  which  he  threatened  her. 

"  Cannot  you  understand,  mother  ?  "  she  said  wistfully. 
"Surely  you  must  see,  must  feel,  the  insult  that  it  was?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  don't  appeal  to  me ! "  said  her  mother 
with  a  sob.  "  Great  folks  aren't  like  other  folks ;  and 
your  father  must  know  best." 

"How  dare  you  turn  to  your  fool  of  a  mother!"  he 
yelled.  "Is  it  she  whose  dollars  have  dressed  you  fine, 
and  cockered  you  up  amongst  blood-fillies  all  these 
years  ?  " 

"  I  regret  that  I  have  cost  you  so  much.  But  if  you 
will  allow  me,  I  will  relieve  you  of  my  presence  and  main- 
tain myself,"  she  said,  with  a  tranquillity  which  made  her 
father's  rage  choke  him  as  though  he  were  on  the  point  of 
apoplexy. 

"Did  I  bring  you  up  amongst  duchesses'  daughters  that 
you  might  disgrace  me  ?  "  he  cried,  with  a  foul  oath. 

From  his  point  of  view  it  was  hard  on  him,  unjust,  a 
very  abonination  of  Providence.  There  were  four  hun- 
hred  young  women  in  London,  four  thousand  in  Great 
Britain,  who  would  have  asked  nothing  better  than  to  be 
beautifully  dressed,  to  have  abundance  of  pocket-money, 
to  ride  thoroughbred  hacks  in  the  Park,  to  pay  court  to 
great  people,  and  to  make  themselves  agreeable  and  popu- 
lar in  society.  There  was  not,  indeed,  one  young  woman 
in  ten  millions  who  would  have  quarrelled  with  such  a 
fate  ;  and  that  extraordinary  and  solitary  exception  was  his 
daughter.  It  was  not  wonderful,  it  was  scarcely  even 
blamable,  that  William  Massarene  was  beside  himself 
with  chagrin  and  rage. 


140  TEE  MASSARENES. 

A  thousand  other  men  had  daughters  who  asked  nothing 
better  than  to  be  allowed  to  spend  money,  and  be  made 
love  to  by  princes,  and  wear  smart  frocks,  and  push  them- 
selves into  smart  society ;  and  he  had  this  rara  avis,  this 
abnormal,  unnatural,  incredible  phenomenon  to  whom  all 
these  things,  which  were  the  very  salt  of  life  to  other 
women,  were  only  as  dust  and  ashes ! 

What  punishment  could  he  give  her?  What  other 
threats  could  he  make  her?  It  was  useless  to  threaten 
with  being  turned  out  of  doors  a  person  who  asked  nothing 
better  than  to  be  set  free  to  work  for  her  livelihood.  If 
he  had  hinted  at  such  a  punishment,  she  would  have 
taken  him  at  his  word,  would  have  put  on  her  simplest 
gown,  and  would  have  gone  to  the  nearest  railway-station. 

He  thundered  at  her;  he  hurled  at  her  blasphemous 
words,  which  had  used  to  make  the  blood  of  miners  and 
navvies  turn  cold  when  the  "  bull-dozing  boss  "  used  such 
to  them  ;  he  swore  by  all  heavenly  and  infernal  powers 
that  he  would  drag  her  on  her  knees  to  the  offended  gen- 
tleman. But  he  made  no  impression  whatever  on  her. 
She  ceased  to  reply.  But  she  gave  no  sign  of  any  emo- 
tion, either  timorous  or  repentant;  she  was  altogether  un- 
moved. Say  what  he  would  he  could  not  intimidate  her, 
and  the  force  of  his  fury  spent  itself  in  time,  beaten  by 
passive  resistance. 

The  upshot  of  the  stormy  scene  was,  that  he  exiled  her 
from  his  world  by  allowing  her  to  accept  an  invitation  to 
pass  a  year  in  India  with  some  school  friends,  who  were 
daughters  of  a  nobleman  who  had  recently  accepted  the 
governorship  of  one  of  the  presidencies  in  India. 

The  decision  cost  her  mother  many  tears,  but  it  was  the 
mildest  ultimatum  to  which  William  Massarene  could  be 
brought.  He  only  saw  in  his  daughter  a  person  who 
might  have  secured  to  him  the  one  supreme  honor  for 
which  his  soul  pined,  and  who  had  not  done  so,  out  of 
some  squeamish,  insolent,  democratic,  intolerable  self-as- 
sertion. In  sending  her  to  pass  a  year  in  the  family  of 
Lord  Framlingham,  he  not  only  removed  her  from  his  own 
sight,  but  placed  her  where  he  not  unnaturally  supposed 
that  she  would  be  surrounded  by  Conservative  and  aristo- 
cratic influences.  Framlingham,  however,  though  it  had 


THE  MASSARENES.  141 

suited  his  pocket  to  accept  his  appointment,  was  a  revolu- 
tionary at  heart,  and  railed  incessantly  at  the  existence  of 
his  own  order  and  his  own  privileges.  He  had  heard  of 
the  discomfiture  of  the  great  personage,  and  chuckled  over 
it,  and  welcomed  the  heroine  of  that  rebuff  with  great 
cordiality  to  his  marble  palace,  looking  through  the  golden 
stems  of  palm-groves  on  to  the  Indian  Ocean,  where  he 
was  a  funny  incongruous  figure  himself,  in  his  checked 
tweed  clothes,  with  his  red  English  face,  his  shining  bald 
head,  his  eye-glass  screwed  into  his  left  eye,  and  his  clean- 
shaven lips  shut  close  on  a  big  cigar. 

"  Did  so  right,  Miss  Massarene,  did  so  right,"  he  said 
warmly  to  her,  soon  after  her  arrival.  "Mustn't  say  so, 
you  know,  as  I'm  one  of  Her  Majesty's  servants,  but  I'm 
always  deuced  glad  when  any  royalty  gets  a  facer.  Those 
people,  you  know,  are  like  preserved  meats  in  a  tin  case 
which  has  had  all  the  air  pumped  out  of  it.  They  never 
get  a  chance  of  hearing  the  truth,  nor  of  knowing  what 
they  look  like  to  people  who  aren't  snobs.  Almost  every- 
body is  a  snob,  you  see.  I  should  like  to  write  a  new 
'Book  of  Snobs.'  The  species  has  grown  a  good  deal 
since  Thackeray's  days.  It  has  developed  like  orchids  or 
prize  vegetables." 

Framlingham,  although  an  unpoetic-looking  occupant 
of  a  marble  palace  in  rose-gardens  of  the  gorgeous  East, 
was  a  person  of  delicate  perceptions,  high  intelligence, 
and  cultured  mind.  He  took  a  great  liking  to  this  young 
woman,  who  quarreled  with  a  lot  which  all  the  world 
envied  her,  and  he  pressed  her  to  remain  with  his  family 
when  the  year  had  passed ;  and  she  obtained  permission 
to  do  so.  Her  mother  was  yearning  for  her  return,  but 
her  father  would  willingly  never  have  seen  her  face  again. 
He  was  not  a  man  who  forgave. 

She  was  thinking  of  the  scene  with  her  father  as  she 
sat  on  the  marble  steps  in  the  governor's  gardens,  in  the 
deep  shade  of  a  magnolia  grove,  absently  listening  to  the 
chatter  of  the  monkeys  overhead.  She  felt  that  she  had 
been  in  the  right.  She  burned  with  shame  whenever  she 
remembered  the  eyes  of  the  great  gentleman  luring 
upon  her  as  he  said,  "  I'll  dine  with  yofar  father,  if  you 
ask  me." 


142  THE  MASSARENES. 

And  her  father  had  not  seen  the  meaning  in  those 
words  ;  or  had  seen  it,  but  would  willingly  have  purchased 
the  honor  even  at  that  price  ! 

She  felt  as  if  she  could  never  go  back  to  that  life  in 
England,  at  Monte  Carlo,  at  Homburg.  If  only  they 
would  allow  her  to  make  her  own  career  here  in  this  an- 
cient and  romantic  land  as  a  teacher,  as  a  nurse,  as  an 
artist,  as  anything.  If  only  they  would  not  oblige  her  to 
return  to  the  yoke  of  that  inane  humiliating  tedious  rou- 
tine which  they  thought  honor  and  the  world  called 
pleasure  ! 

She  had  by  that  day's  mail  received  from  her  mother 
some  cuttings  from  a  society  journal,  descriptive  of  the 
glories  of  Harrenden  House  and  Vale  Royal,  and  con- 
taining an  account  of  the  dinner-party  which  the  Grand 
Duchess  had  ordered  and  honored.  These  brilliant  para- 
graphs had  filled  her  with  pain  and  disgust. 

44  We  are  getting  on  fast,  my  dear  child,"  wrote  her 
mother,  "  and  it's  time  as  you  came  back,  for  people  are 
always  asking  after  you,  and  I'd  like  to  see  you  well 
married,  and  I'm  sure  you  look  more  of  a  lady  than  many 
of  them." 

She  knew  very  well  what  kind  of  marriage  she  would 
alone  be  allowed  to  make  ;  marriage  which  would  give 
her  some  high  place  in  return  for  an  abyss  of  debt  filled 
up,  which  would  purchase  for  her  entry  into  some  great 
family  who  would  receive  her  for  sake  of  what  she  would 
bring  to  clear  off  mortgages,  and  save  the  sale  of  timber, 
and  enable  some  titled  fool  to  go  on  keeping  his  racing- 
stud. 

"Never  I  never!  "  she  said  to  herself;  her  father  might 
disinherit  her  if  he  pleased,  but  he  should  never  make  her 
marry  so. 

The  same  temper  was  in  her  which  had  made  her  say 
as  a  small  child :  "  If  you  grin  when  I  speak  I'll  hit  yer." 
The  temper  was  softened  by  courtesy,  by  culture,  by  self- 
control,  by  polished  habit ;  but  it  was  there,  proud,  impe- 
rious and  indomitable. 

Uechine  souple  of  the  snob  and  the  courtier  was  want- 
ing in  her.  44  You  might  have  swallowed  your  ancestor's 
sword,"  said  one  of  her  girl  playmates  once  to  her ;  and 


THE  MASSARENES.  143 

she  thought  bitterly,  "  My  father's  'shooting-irons'  are  the 
only  substitute  for  ancestral  steel  that  I  know ! " 

But  yet  she  bore  herself  as  though  she  had  all  the 
barons  of  Runnyrnede  behind  her;  and  she  could  not  bend 
or  cringe.  "I  don't  know  how  the  devil  she  comes  by  it, 
but  she  is  certainly  thoroughbred,"  thought  her  host. 
u  Who  knows  what  grace  of  Geraldines,  or  strength  of 
Hamiltons,  or  charm  of  Sheridans,  may  have  filtered  into 
the  veins  of  some  ancestor  of  hers  in  the  long,  long  ago?" 


144  THE  HASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IN  the  March  and  early  April  of  the  next  year  there 
was  very  bad  weather  in  England  :  snow,  sleet  and  storm, 
killing  sheep,  starving  cattle,  delaying  railway-trains,  and 
covering  much  in  the  woodland  nooks  where  the  primrose 
roots  were  getting  ready  their  buds  for  sacrifice  at  West- 
minster in  the  drollest  form  of  hero-worship  which  a 
generation  bereft  of  any  sense  of  humor  ever  invented. 

The  moors  were  vast  unbroken  plains  of  virginal  white- 
ness, and  the  woods  looked  black  against  a  steely  sky  as 
Hurstmanceaux  got  into  the  express  which  had  been 
signalled  by  telegram  to  stop  for  him  at  the  little  station 
outside  the  park  of  a  country  house  at  which  he  had  been 
staying  in  the  North  Riding.  The  engine  snorted,  hissed 
and  flung  up  steam  and  fire  into  the  chilly  air  as  he 
hastened  across  the  platform. 

He  got  quickly  into  the  carriage  indicated  to  him  by 
his  servant,  pushing  his  dog  before  him,  and  the  train  had 
moved  off  before  he  saw  that  there  was  a  lady  in  the 
compartment,  to  whom  he  lifted  his  Glengarry  cap  with  a 
word  of  apology  for  the  presence  of  his  collie. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  dogs,"  said  the  lady  with  a  smile, 
and  the  collie  smelt  the  hem  of  her  gown  and  the  fur  of 
her  cloak  with  approval. 

"  Thanks  !  "  said  his  master,  and,  as  he  looked  at  her, 
thought  how  "  well-groomed,"  in  his  own  vernacular,  she 
was.  She  did  not  belong  to  the  county  he  felt  sure.  He 
had  never  seen  her  before,  and  he  knew  all  the  Ridings 
well. 

She  was  plainly  dressed  in  dark  cloth  ;  but  the  sables 
lining  her  cloak  were  of  the  finest ;  her  gloves  were  of 
perfect  fit  and  texture  ;  her  buttoned  velvet  boots  were 
admirably  made ;  she  had  a  little  velvet  toque  on  a  shapely 
head ;  she  had  an  air  of  great  distinction  and  simplicity 
combined. 

She  resumed  the  perusal  of  her  book,  and  he  an  folded 


THE  MAS8AEENE8.  145 

a  morning  paper.  The  train  swung  on  its  way  at  great 
speed.  The  dog,  Ossian,  lay  down  in  the  middle  of  the 
carriage.  The  glass  of  the  windows  was  silvered  with 
hoar-frost ;  nothing  was  to  be  seen  out  of  them  of  the 
country  through  which  they  were  being  hurried.  The 
snow  fell  continually ;  there  was  no  wind. 

Ossian,  waking  out  of  his  nap  and  yawning,  much  bored, 
began  the  conversation  by  laying  his  muzzle  on  the  lady's 
knees. 

"  Pray  forgive  him  !  "  said  his  master. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive.     What  a  beauty  he  is  ! " 

"  He  is  as  good  as  he  looks.  But  perhaps  he  ought  to 
apologize  for  being  here." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  really,  I  do  not  know  why ;  but  it  is  expected 
that  a  dog's  owner  should  say  so." 

"  Only  when  he  writes  to  the  Times"  said  the  lady, 
amused.  "  In  point  of  fact,  it  is  I  who  am  in  the  wrong 
place,  for  this  is  a  smoking-carriage." 

Ossian  having  thus  broken  the  ice  between  them  they 
continued  to  talk,  of  the  weather,  of  the  news  of  the  day, 
of  the  book  she  had  brought  with  her,  of  dogs  in  general, 
and  of  the  collie  in  particular. 

They  were  neither  of  them  very  talkative  by  tempera- 
ment, or  disposed  to  be  communicative  usually,  but  they 
got  on  very  well  together.  He  shifted  his  seat  to  the 
corner  in  front  of  her,  and  the}f  continued  to  skim  over  a 
variety  of  subjects,  harmoniously  and  agreeably  to  both, 
as  the  train  glided  over  the  frozen  ground,  scattering  the 
fine  white  powder  of  the  snow  in  front  of  it. 

"  How  fast  it  snows !  "  said  the  lady  rather  anxiously, 
trying  to  rub  the  pane  of  glass  nearest  her  clear  with  her 
handkerchief. 

"  Were  you  ever  blocked  up  by  a  snowstorm  ?  "  asked 
Hurstmanceaux.  "  I  have  been — once  in  Scotland  and 
once  in  Canada.  It  is  a  disagreeable  experience." 

"  It  must  be,  indeed.  I  hope  there  will  be  no  chance 
of  that  to-day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  men  will  have  kept  the  line  clear,  no  doubt !  " 

As  he  spoke  the  train  slackened  its  speed,  moved  with 
a  jerking  and  dragging  sound  for  some  time,  and  a  little 
10 


146  THE  MASSARENES. 

while  later  stopped  still  with  a  great  noise  of  rushing 
steam,  and  a  jar  which  shook  the  carriage  violently  and 
flung  Ossian  against  one  of  the  doors. 

The  lady  turned  pale,  but  she  did  not  move  or  scream  ; 
she  looked  a  mute  inquiry. 

"  I  suppose  they  have  failed  to  keep  the  line  clear,"  he 
said,  in  answer  to  the  glance.  "  Allow  me  to  look  out  a 
moment." 

He  let  down  a  window  and  leaned  out  of  it ;  but  the 
air  was  so  dense  with  steam  and  snow  that  he  could  not 
see  a  yard  before  him. 

"  Is  it  an  accident?  "  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  I  imagine  we  have  run  into  a 
snow  drift,  nothing  more." 

The  noise  of  the  steam  rushing  out  of  the  engine,  and 
the  shouts  of  officials  calling  to  each  other,  almost  drowned 
his  voice.  He  took  his  railway-key  out  of  his  pocket  and 
opened  the  door. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  what  it  is,  and  return  in  a  moment," 
he  said  to  her,  signing  to  Ossian  to  remain  in  the  carriage, 
and  leaving  the  door  open. 

She  did  not  attempt  to  detain  or  to  follow  him. 

"  That  is  a  thoroughbred  woman,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  did  return  in  a  few  minutes,  and  brought  word  that 
they  had  stuck  fast  in  the  snow.  The  engine-driver  had 
slackened  speed  in  time  to  avoid  an  accident,  but  they 
might  be  detained  for  hours  ;  the  telegraph  wires  were  all 
down  through  the  weight  of  the  snow. 

"It  is  extremely  disagreeable,  but  it  is  not  dangerous," 
he  said  to  reassure  her.  "  We  shall  be  quittes  pour  la  peur. 
We  shall  probably  have  time  to  get  dreadfully  keen  about 
eating,  and  have  nothing  to  eat.  England  is  such  a  small 
place  :  one  never  thinks  of  '  stoking '  when  one  travels  in 
it." 

"My  poor  maid!"  she  said  anxiously.  "I  am  afraid 
she  must  be  very  frightened,  wherever  she  is." 

"Can  I  look  for  her?" 

"You  are  very  kind,  but  how  should  you  know  her ? 
I  will  get  out  myself." 

"  It  may  be  as  well  to  get  out.  You  would  be  warmer 
if  you  stayed  in  the  carriage,  but  there  is  the  chance  that 


THE  MASSARENES.  147 

a  train  may  come  up  behind  and  run  into  ours,  though 
men  have  gone  down  the  line  with  lamps." 

She  had  nothing  with  her  except  her  book  and  a  bou- 
quet of  violets.  Closely  followed  by  Ossian,  he  accom- 
panied her  along  the  line,  looking  into  each  compartment 
to  find  her  maid.  There  were  many  people,  both  in  the 
train  and  out  of  it,  talking  confusedly,  suggesting  this, 
that,  and  the  other ;  the  air  was  full  of  fog  and  snow  ; 
the  engine,  snorting  and  smoking,  stood  with  its  brazen 
breast  pushed  against  the  high  white  hillocks. 

When  they  found  the  maid,  a  grey  elderly  person,  she 
was  in  a  panic  of  terror,  which  made  her  perfectly  useless. 
She  was  shaking  from  head  to  foot,  and  repeating  discon- 
nected Scriptural  texts  ;  she  resisted  all  her  mistress's  re- 
quests and  entreaties  to  her  to  descend;  she  said  she 
wished  to  meet  her  God  where  she  was. 

"  If  there  be  any  thieves  in  the  train,"  said  Hurstman- 
ceaux  to  the  lady,  "  they  will  have  an  easy  time  with 
your  jewel-box." 

"I  do  not  wear  jewels,"  said  his  fellow-traveler  curtly. 

He  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise.  Her  tone  had 
asperity  in  it. 

"  Were  you  going  up  to  town,  may  I  ask  ?  "  he  ventured 
to  inquire. 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  Only  from  one  country  house 
to  another." 

He  wished  he  knew  what  country  houses  they  were,  but 
he  could  not  ask  that. 

She  argued  with  her  maid  very  patiently  and  with  great 
kindness,  but  made  no  impression. 

"  Poor  Danvers  !  She  is  out  of  her  mind  with  fear. 
What  shall  I  do?"  she  said,  appealing  to  him  as  though 
they  had  been  old  acquaintances. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  a  long  walk  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Will  you  come  with  me,  then  ?  I  know  the  country. 
The  nearest  town  is  four  miles  away.  I  am  going  there 
to  send  help.  Will  you  like  to  come  ?  " 

She  did  not  immediately  reply. 

44  May  I  present  myself?"  he  added,  "I  am  Lord 
Hurstmanceaux." 


148  TEE  NASSARENE8. 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Indeed  ?     You  are  very  like  your  sister." 

"  Which  one  ?     I  have  several." 

"  Lady  Kenilworth." 

He  laughed. 

"  That  is  a  great  compliment.  She  is  the  beauty  of  the 
family.  Do  you  know  her  ?  She  is  one  of  the  beauties 
of  England." 

"Not  I;  but  my  people  do.  I  have  seen  her,  of 
course !  " 

The  tone  was  rather  repellant;  by  no  means  cordial. 

"  Well,  we  must  not  lose  daylight,"  said  Ronald.  "  Will 
you  come?  The  snow  is  firm,  and  it  will  be  fair  cross- 
country walking.  You  will  be  less  chilled  than  staying 
here  in  inaction;  and  it  is  not  more  than  four  miles  to  the 
town  by  short  cuts  which  I  know." 

She  hesitated. 

"But  my  poor  woman  ?      To  leave  her  here  alone " 

"I  will  tell  my  servant  to  stay  and  look  after  her.  She 
will  join  you  in  the  town,  and  you  will  continue  your 
journey.  I  think  you  had  better  come  with  me.  I  must 
go  myself,  anyhow,  for  no  one  else  knows  the  country.  I 
have  hunted  and  ridden  over  it  scores  of  times,  and  I 
know  every  bush  and  briar." 

"  I  will  come,"  she  said,  without  any  further  hesitation. 

"  You  are  a  good  walker  ?  "  he  said  a  little  anxiously. 

She  laughed  a  little. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  shall  not  break  down  and  cast  my  shoes." 

"  Come  along,  then.  It  soon  grows  dark  in  these  early 
spring  days.  Our  Aprils  are  considerably  worse  than  our 
Novembers." 

"  He  is  rather  too  familiar/'  she  thought ;  but  she  per- 
ceived that  it  was  his  natural  manner,  which,  when  he 
was  not  irritated,  or  sarcastic,  or — as  he  frequently  was — 
silent,  had  great  frankness  and  simplicity  in  it. 

"  It  is  an  odd  thing  to  do,"  she  continued  to  say  to  her- 
self, "  to  walk  across  country  in  the  snow  with  a  man  one 
does  not  know.  But  he  is  certainly  Lord  Hurstmanceaux 
by  his  resemblance  to  his  sister,  and  it  will  be  better  to 
walk  than  to  sit  still  in  a  railway-carriage,  with  the  chance  of 
being  frozen  into  bronchitis  or  smashed  by  an  express  train." 


TEE  MASSARENES.  149 

And  she  took  her  way  across  the  bleak,  blank  pastures 
which  stretched  around  the  scene  of  the  accident,  with 
little  frozen  brooks  and  ditches  and  sunken  fences  divid- 
ing them,  and  no  trees  or  hedges  to  relieve  the  tedium  of 
the  level  landscape,  since  scientific  agriculture  ruled  su- 
preme. 

"  How  well  she  carries  herself,"  thought  Hurstman- 
ceaux.  "  Who  can  she  be  possibly,  that  I  do  not  know 
her  by  sight  ?  And  her  people  know  Mouse  and  not  me  ! " 

The  snow  was  hard,  and  afforded  good  footing.  She 
crossed  the  ditches  and  little  streams  as  easily  and  with  as 
much  elasticity  as  Ossian  did,  and  went  on  her  way 
quickly  and  with  energy,  carrying  her  bouquet  of  violets 
close  up  to  her  mouth  to  keep  out  the  biting  wind. 

She  asked  him  the  name  of  the  town  to  which  they 
were  going,  and  if  they  would  be  able  to  telegraph  thence. 

"  I  fear  the  wires  will  be  damaged  there,  too,"  he 
answered.  "  It  is  called  Greater  Thorpe.  There  is  Lesser 
Thorpe,  St.  Mary's  Thorpe,  Monk's  Thorpe,  Dane's  Thorpe 
— the  two  latter  charming  names  suggestive  of  the  past. 
You  would  see  the  spire  of  Greater  Thorpe  from  here  if  it 
were  a  clear  day,  or  what  does  duty  in  England  as  a  clear 
day." 

"  One's  greatest  want  in  England  is  distance,"  she 
answered.  "  I  was  in  India  a  little  while  ago.  What  an 
atmosphere  !  It  is  heaven  only  to  live  in  it." 

"  Yes,  the  light  is  wonderful." 

"  So  golden  and  so  pure.  To  think  that  the  English 
dare  to  defile  it  with  factory  smoke ! " 

"  That  is  on  a  piece  with  all  we  do  there." 

"  How  vulgar,  how  fussy,  how  common  the  conquerors 
look  beside  the  conquered  !  Go  into  a  bank,  a  counting- 
house,  a  police-station,  and  see  the  calm,  stately,  proud, 
reposeful  natives  in  their  flowing  robes,  bullied  and  sworn 
at  by  some  smug,  sandy-haired,  snub-nosed  official  in  a 
checked  suit  and  a  pot  hat !  One  wishes  for  a  second  and 
successful  mutiny." 

"  It  must  be  admitted  we  are  neither  pliant  nor  pictur- 
esque. The  Russians,  when  they  succeed  us,  will  at  least 
4  compose  '  better.  In  what  part  of  India  were  you  ?  " 

She  told  him,  adding,  "  I  have  left  with  extreme  regret." 


150  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  You  were  in  the  Framlingham's  Presidency ;  did  you 
know  them  ?  " 

"  I  was  on  a  visit  to  them." 

"  If  she  would  only  say  who  she  is !  "  thought  Ronald, 
as  a  gust  of  wind  blew  them  apart  and  sent  the  snow 
spray  into  their  faces ;  he  felt  sure  that  she  belonged  to 
his  world  and  that  she  was  married ;  she  had  a  composure 
of  tone  and  manner  which  made  her  seem  much  older 
than  her  features  looked.  He  was  lost  in  admiration  of 
the  beauty  of  her  feet  as  the  wind  lifted  her  skirts,  or  as 
she  lifted  herself  over  the  ditches  in  a  spring  as  easy  as 
the  dog's. 

"  You  enjoy  this  rough  walk,"  he  said  shortly  to  her. 

"I  think  I  do,"  she  answered.  "But  I  should  enjoy  it 
more  if  I  were  sure  I  could  telegraph  from  this  Greater 
Thorpe." 

"  You  wish  to  reassure  your  people  ?  " 

« I  do." 

"  If  she  would  only  say  who  they  are  !  "  he  thought,  but 
she  did  not. 

They  could  only  converse  when  the  wind  lulled,  which 
was  not  very  often ;  it  blew  straight  in  their  faces  over 
the  bare  level  land,  and  he  had  some  trouble  in  recog- 
nizing the  landmarks  in  the  white  obliteration  of  the 
always  featureless  landscape,  and  in  avoiding  the  barbed 
wire  fencing  which  had  many  a  day  cost  him  many  an 
angry  oath  as  he  had  hunted  over  those  pastures. 

"  I  used  to  be  a  good  deal  in  this  country,"  he  said,  as 
they  at  last  left  the  wide  level  fields  for  a  high  road,  and 
which  was  less  exposed  to  the  wind.  "  I  used  to  hunt 
with  the  Vale  of  Thorpe  hounds.  I  do  not  hunt  aii}^ where 
now ;  and  I  have  nothing  now  to  bring  me  into  the  county 
since  my  cousin,  Lord  Roxhall,  sold  his  place." 

"Vale  Royal?" 

"Yes?     Do  you  know  it?" 

"  I  have  seen  it." 

"A  fine  old  place,  the  biggest  beeches  in  England,  and 
a  herd  of  wild  cattle  equal  to  the  Chillingham.  I  only 
\vish  one  of  the  red  bulls  would  gore  the  wretched  cad 
who  has  bought  it,  or  perhaps  in  strict  justice  the  bulls 
ought  first  to  have  gored  Roxhall," 


THE '  MASSABENE8. 


151 


She  did  not  reply;  she  was  walking  as  easily  and 
quickly  as  ever,  though  it  was  the  fourth  mile,  and  the 
cold  of  the  bleak  sunless  day  grew  more  intense  as  the 
hours  wore  away. 

"  Vale  Royal  was  given  by  Henry  the  Second  to  the 
Roxhalls  of  that  time,"  he  continued.  "  My  cousin  wanted 
money,  it  is  true;  but  not  so  desperately  that  he  need 
have  done  so  vile  a  thing.  He  was  led  into  it.  The  man 
who  has  bought  it  is  a  brute  from  the  Northwestern 
States  ;  made  his  fortune  in  all  kinds  of  foul  ways,  drink- 
ing-shops,  gambling-saloons,  cattle-trading,  opium-dealing, 
cheating  poor  devils  who  landed  with  a  little  money  and 
went  to  him  for  advice  and  concessions ;  an  unspeakable 
rascal,  who  after  thirty  years'  infamy  out  there  pulls  himself 
together,  praises  God  for  all  His  mercies,  and  comes  back 
to  this  country  to  go  to  church,  sit  in  Parliament,  wear 
a  tall  hat,  and  buy  English  society  and  English  estates. 
Don't  you  agree  with  me  that  it  is  utterly  disgraceful?" 

She  held  her  violets  higher  up  to  her  face  so  that  he  saw 
nothing  but  her  eyes,  which  were  looking  down  the  long 
straight  white  road  which  stretched  out  before  them  into 
a  grey  haze  of  fogs. 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  she  said  in  very  clear  and 
incisive  tones.  "I  think  it  utterly  disgraceful.  But  the 
disgrace  is  as  much  to  the  bought  as  the  buyer." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  with  great  warmth. 
"A  society  is  utterly  rotten  and  ruined  when  such  a  fun- 
gus as  this  can  take  root  in  it.  That  I  have  always  main- 
tained. 'Tell  me  whom  you  know  and  I  will  tell  you 
what  you  are,'  is  as  true  when  said  of  society  as  when  it 
is  said  of  an  individual.  Certainly  society  only  knows 
this  man,  this  Massarene,  in  a  perfunctory  supercilious 
way,  and  only  gives  him  the  kind  of  nod  which  is  the 
equivalent  of  a  kick  ;  but  it  does  know  him  ;  it  drinks  his 
wines  and  eats  his  dinners ;  it  nods  to  him,  it  elects  him, 
it  leaves  cards  on  him ;  it  lets  him  look  ridiculous  in 
white  breeches  and  a  gilded  coat  at  St.  James's,  and  it 
makes  him  pay  through  the  nose  for  ail  its  amiabilities 
and  tolerations.  It  is  an  infamy  !  " 

She  looked  straight  before  her  down  the  road  and  did 
not  reply. 


152  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"  You  said  you  agreed  with  me  ?  "  said  Hurstmanceaux, 
surprised  at  her  silence. 

"  I  agree  with  you  entirely." 

But  there  was  a  dullness  in  her  tone  which  suggested 
to  him  that,  however  completely  she  shared  his  opinions, 
the  subject  was  disagreeable  to  her. 

"She  can't  belong  to  that  class  herself,  she  is  thorough- 
bred down  to  the  ground,"  he  thought,  as  he  said  aloud, 
"I  am  afraid  you  are  tired.  The  cold  is  beginning  to  tell 
on  you." 

"  No ;  I  am  not  at  all  cold,"  she  answered,  holding  up 
nearer  to  her  the  poor  violets  shrivelling  in  the  frost. 

"  What  has  come  over  her,  I  wonder,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "She  was  so  frank  and  natural  and  pleasant,  and 
now  she  is  chilly  and  stiff,  and  scarcely  opens  her  lips.  It 
is  since  I  spoke  of  Vale  Royal.  But  she  said  she  agreed 
with  me.  Perhaps  she  knows  Gerald,  and  is  fond  of  him. 
But  he  could  hardly  know  anybody  intimately  whom  I 
have  never  seen,  or  never  heard  of,  at  the  least." 

"  Yet  there  is  this  to  be  said.  You  blame  this  person," 
she  added  in  a  low  but  clear  tone  as  she  walked  on,  look- 
ing straight  before  her.  "  You  admit  that  your  world  is 
more  contemptible  than  he.  What  obliged  Lord  Roxhall 
to  live  in  such  a  manner  that  he  was  forced  to  sell  his  old 
estate?  Are  not  nearly  all  of  you  tradesmen  and  horse 
dealers  and  speculators?  Who  fill  the  markets  with  game, 
the  wharfs  with  coal,  the  shows  with  fat  cattle  and  brood- 
mares? Who  breed  herds  of  Shetland  ponies  to  sell  them 
to  the  cruel  work  of  the  mines  ?  Who  destroy  all  the  wild- 
bird  life  of  three  kingdoms,  that  the  slaughter  of  the  bat- 
tues may  be  wholesale  and  the  pheasants  sent  in  thousands 
to  Leadenhall?  Your  own  order,  your  own  order.  What 
has  it  done,  what  does  it  ever  do,  to  make  it  so  superior 
to  the  man  from  Dakota  ?  " 

Hurstmanceaux  listened  in  extreme  astonishment.  He 
could  not  understand  the  scorn  and  suppressed  vehemence 
with  which  her  words  vibrated.  He  was  silent  because, 
in  his  own  mind,  he  found  the  indictment  a  just  one.  But 
his  aristocratic  temper  was  in  conflict  with  his  intellectual 
judgment. 

"What    have    the    English  aristocracy  brought  into 


THE  MASSARENE8.  153 

fashion  ?  What  do  they  uphold  by  example  and  precept?  " 
she  continued.  "  Their  life  is  one  course  of  reckless  folly ; 
the  summer  is  wasted  in  crowded  London  houses,  varied 
by  race-meetings  and  pigeon-shooting;  the  autumn  and 
winter  are  spent  in  the  incessant  slaughtering  of  birds  and 
beasts ;  their  beautiful  country  houses  are  only  visited  at 
intervals,  when  they  are  as  crowded  as  a  booth  at  a  fair. 
What  kind  of  example  do  they  set  to  'the  man  from 
Dakota '  ?  What  do  they  suggest  to  him  of  self-denial,  of 
culture,  of  true  grace  and  courtesy,  of  contempt  for  ill- 
gotten  riches?  They  crowd  around  him  as  poultry  around 
a  feeding-pan !  The  whole  thing  is  discreditable.  But 
perhaps  the  most  shameful  part  in  it  is  not  his !  " 

Hurstmanceaux  was  silent.  He  thought  of  Cocky  and 
his  sister,  and  he  felt  his  blood  tingle  under  the  lash  of 
her  stinging  words. 

"  My  own  withers  are  tin  wrung,"  he  said  at  last  with  a 
smile.  "I  don't  do  those  things.  My  estates  are  ex- 
tremely unproductive,  and  I  live,  for  the  chief  part  of  the 
year,  on  one  of  them — Faldon." 

"  It  is  on  the  sea,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  on  the  coast  of  Waterford." 

"Do  you  cut  your  timber?" 

"  I  do  not." 

"Do  you  preserve?" 

"  For  sport  ?  No.  Wild  life  has  a  happy  time  of  it,  I 
assure  you,  with  me." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  any  Englishman  say  so." 

"  Are  we  such  a  set  of  barbarians  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  very  barbarous ;  much  more  so  than  the 
Hindoos  whom  you  have  conquered.  Compare  the  sim- 
plicity of  their  diet,  the  purity  of  their  arts,  the  beauty  of 
their  costume  and  their  architecture,  with  a  Lord  Mayor's 
feast,  a  Royal  Academy  show,  a  Manchester  Canal,  a 
Forth  Bridge,  a  team  of  cyclists,  a  London  woman's  gown  ! 
Barbarians  ! — barbarians  indeed,  worse  than  any  Goth  or 
Vandal ! — the  nation  which  destroyed  Delhi!  " 

"She  must  surely  be  a  Russian,"  thought  Hurstman- 
ceaux. "They  often  speak  English  with  an  admirable 
fluency.  But  why,  if  so,  should  Vale  Royal  affect  her  so 
singularly?  " 


154  THE  MASSARENES. 

He  was  not  impressionable  in  these  ways  ;  but  his  new 
acquaintance  attracted  him  extremely.  He  admired  her, 
and  her  voice  charmed  him  like  music. 

At  that  moment  Ossian,  perceiving  in  a  distant  field 
some  sheep  feeding  on  swedes  in  the  snow,  could  not  re- 
sist his  hereditary  instinct  of  shepherding  them,  and 
caused  his  master  some  trouble,  as  the  sheep  entirely  mis- 
took the  collie's  good  intentions  and  fled  away  in  all 
directions.  The  lady  watched  the  scene,  standing  still 
under  a  pollarded  willow.  When  order  was  restored  and 
they  walked  on  again,  she  asked  him  what  had  made  him 
give  up  hunting ;  in  herself  she  regretted  her  late  elo- 
quence, and  wished  her  companion  to  forget  it. 

"What  made  you  give  up  hunting?  "  she  asked  sud- 
denly, as  if  conscious  that  the  severity  of  her  tone  might 
appear  strange  to  him. 

"  Well,  I  have  never  told  anybody,"  he  answered,  and 
paused. 

Then  he  went  on,  in  a  rather  embarrassed  manner, 
nerved  by  the  confidence  which  his  unknown  companion 
roused  in  him : 

"  I  was  one  day  in  my  own  woods  at  Faldon  sketching  ; 
hounds  were  out,  but  I  was  not  with  them.  I  was  sitting 
in  the  bracken  quite  hidden  by  it,  and  an  old  dog-fox 
slouched  by  me ;  his  tail  drooped,  he  was  dead  beat,  he 
could  scarcely  drag  himself  along ;  he  had  a  bad  gash  in 
his  side  from  a  stake  or  something ;  he  went  up  to  an  old 
hollow  oak,  and  out  of  it  came  his  bitch  and  three  little 
cubs ;  and  they  welcomed  him,  I  assure  you,  just  as  his 
family  might  welcome  a  man  going  home  after  a  hard 
campaign,  and  the  bitch  fell  to  licking  the  gash  in  his  side, 
and  the  cubs  frolicked  around  her.  I  never  had  the  heart 
to  hurt  a  fox  again.  Hares  I  never  did  hunt :  it  is  bar- 
barous work.  But  that  fox,  too,  set  me  thinking.  He 
cared  for  his  home  and  his  wife  just  like  any  good  citizen 
going  home  in  the  tram  to  Peckham  Rise  or  Brixton.  It 
was  a  pretty  sight  that  poor  thing  going  home.  I  stopped 
there  till  dark  to  make  sure  the  pack  didn't  come  after 
him." 

"You  did  very  right,"  she  said  in  her  soft  grave  voice. 
*4I  wish  more  men  would  pause  and  think  like  that." 


THE  MASSARENES.  155 

The  wind  rose  and  blew  some  more  fine  snow  powder 
over  them  and  in  their  faces. 

44  It  is  half-past  two  o'clock,"  he  said,  looking  at  his 
watch,  "  I  am  sure  you  must  miss  your  luncheon." 

44 1  should  like  a  cup  of  tea,"  she  answered.  "  How 
much  farther  is  it  to  Thorpe?  " 

44  About  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  We  shall  get  there 
before  dark.  But  I  fear  the  Thorpe  tea  will  not  be  up  to 
your  standard.  However,  they  will  give  you  a  good  fire 
at  the  Bell  Inn." 

44  The  Bell  Inn !  It  sounds  like  Charles  Dickens  and 
Washington  Irving." 

44  Yes ;  but  there  is  no  longer  the  abundance  and  the 
comfort  of  the  old  coaching-days ;  country  inns,  now,  like 
most  other  things,  hardly  pay  their  own  expenses." 

4t  I  am  afraid  I  prefer  the  wayside  station  on  the  edge 
of  the  Indian  jungle,  with  ripe  bananas  brought  to  me  on 
a  cocoa-nut  leaf,  and  the  monkeys  looking  down  for  a 
share  from  the  reed  roofs." 

44  So  do  I,"  he  said,  thinking  that  she  looked  pale  and 
fatigued.  "  But  for  our  sins  we  are  in  Woldshire,  and 
we  shall  have  to  put  up  with  coal  fires  and  beefsteaks." 

She  looked  alarmed. 

44  Surely  I  shall  not  have  to  stay  there  ?" 

44  That  will  depend  on  what  state  the  roads  and  the 
lines  are  in ;  the  snow  is  less  thick  about  here.  Where 
are  you  going  to  ?  Of  course,  horses  cannot  stir  out  in 
this  frost." 

She  avoided  the  direct  question. 

44  Oh,  well,  it  is  an  adventure  ;  one  must  not  complain. 
If  I  can  get  my  poor  woman  to  the  town  I  will  support 
its  indifferent  accommodation." 

44  We  will  do  the  best  we  can,  but  the  Thorpe  mind  is 
slow  and  uninventive.  The  rural  brain  in  England  is  apt 
to  be  clogged  with  beer.  Fortunately,  however,  what- 
ever be  its  density,  it  always  retains  its  perception  of  the 
value  of  shillings  and  sovereigns.  We  will  try  that 
gentle  stimulant  so  appreciated  in  politics,  so  especially 
appreciated  since  bribery  was  made  a  crime." 

They  had  now  come  near  enough  to  the  town  to  per- 
ceive in  the  haze  the  square  shoulders  of  its  roofs  and  the 


156  THE  MASSARENES. 

tower  of  its  famous  church,  all  blurred  and  blotted  by  the 
fog  like  a  too-much-washed  water-color  drawing.  She  did 
not  seem  to  be  tired,  but  she  had  lost  her  elasticity  of 
movement ;  her  eyes  looked  straight  ahead,  and  no  longer 
turned  to  meet  his  own  frankly  as  they  had  done  before. 
She  seemed  to  wish  to  be  silent,  so  he  let  the  conversa- 
tion drop,  and  walked  on  beside  her  mutely,  as  the  strag- 
gling suburbs  of  a  country  town  began  to  show  them- 
selves in  the  more  frequent  cottages,  in  the  occasional 
alehouse,  and  in  the  presence  of  people  in  the  roads,  and 
in  the  small  wayside  gardens  where  they  were  scraping 
and  sweeping  clear  little  paths  from  the  gates  to  the  doors. 
Some  of  these,  recognizing  him,  touched  their  hats  ;  he 
spoke  to  the  most  capable-looking,  told  them  briefly  of  the 
accident,  and  sent  them  on  to  the  station-master,  whilst  he 
took  his  companion  to  the  Bell  Inn,  an  old  house  which 
had  been  a  busy  and  prosperous  place  in  the  posting  and 
coaching  times  of  which  he  had  spoken.  It  stood  in  the 
centre  of  a  market-place,  which  was  alive  and  noisy  with 
country  folks  once  a  week,  but  was  now  a  desolate  and 
well-nigh  empty  place  filled  with  wind  and  driven  snow. 

"  If  you  will  rest  here  ten  minutes,"  he  said  to  her,  "  I 
will  come  back  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  the  authorities  and 
heard  what  they  propose  to  do,  and  I  will  tell  you  if  the 
lines  are  safe  and  the  wires  in  working  order.  I  am 
afraid  you  will  find  it  very  rough  and  uncomfortable,  but 
they  are  lighting  the  fire  and  the  landlady  is  a  good  soul ; 
my  cousins  used  to  come  and  have  some  of  her  soup  on 
hunting  mornings  ;  you  will  like  her,  I  think." 

He  held  open  the  door  of  the  only  sitting-room,  and  as 
she  passed  within  bowed  very  low  to  her  and  went  out 
into  the  street  again. 

As  he  reached  the  middle  of  the  market-place  he  heard 
his  name  spoken,  and,  turning  at  the  sound,  saw  her  to 
his  surprise  coming  toward  him  from  the  entrance  of  the 
inn.  He  went  back  a  few  steps  to  meet  her.  She  was 
very  pale  still,  and  there  was  a  pride  which  was  almost 
aggressive  in  her  attitude  as  she  stood  still  on  the  slip- 
pery trodden  stones  and  faced  him. 

"  Pray  do  not  come  back  to  me,"  she  said  coldly.  "  I 
can  have  all  I  need  here  till  my  woman  can  join  me.  But 


THEt  MASSAKENES.  157 

there  is  something  I  ought  to  tell  you,  and  I  ought  also 
to  thank  you  for  all  your  good  nature  and  courtesy." 

She  paused  a  moment  whilst  he  looked  at  her  in  silence 
and  surprise.  She  was  evidently  speaking  under  the  in- 
fluence of  some  strong  and  personal  feeling. 

"  It  is  to  Vale  Royal  that  I  am  going,"  she  added  with 
a  visible  effort.  "  I  am  Katlierine  Massarene." 

The  blood  leapt  up  into  Hurstmanceaux's  face ;  he  was 
dumb  with  amazement  and  regret ;  he  forgot  utterly  that 
he  was  standing  bareheaded  in  a  snowy  sloppy  market- 
place with  a  dozen  yokels  staring  and  grinning  about  the 
gates  of  the  inn  yard.  He  drew  a  very  long  breath.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  gravely  and  with  great  humil- 
ity. "  I  am  shocked " 

44  You  have  no  need  to  be  so,"  she  replied,  "  I  quite 
agreed  with  your  views.  But  I  cannot  alter  my  father, 
nor  you  your  world." 

She  stroked  the  uplifted  head  of  Ossian  and  turned  to 
go  back  to  the  door  of  the  Bell  Inn.  He  strode  after  her 
and  reached  her  side. 

"  I  am  extremely  sorry,"  he  murmured.  "  I  am  shocked 
at  my  gross  indiscretion.  I  cannot  look  for  your  forgive- 
ness. But  pray  do  let  me  beg  of  you  to  take  off  those 
pretty  velvet  boots  at  once,  and  let  the  woman  rub  your 
feet  with  spirits  of  some  sort,  failing  eau  de  Cologne.  I 
wish  I  had  thought  to  take  your  dressing-bag  from  your 
woman." 

"  Thanks." 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  as  she  said  the  word,  and 
he  thought  there  were  tears  in  her  large  serious  eyes. 
Then  she  went  inside  the  old  posting-house  and  he  saw 
her  no  more. 

"  That  cad's  daughter,  heavens  and  earth !  "  he  said  to 
himself  as  he  brushed  the  men  aside  and  hastened  across 
the  market-place. 

He  scarcely  knew  what  he  said  to  the  frightened  sta- 
tion-master and  the  obsequious  mayor,  and  the  bustling 
town  clerk,  and  all  the  good  people  who  crowded  to  wel- 
come a  live  lord  and  hear  of  a  railway  accident.  He  was 
intensely  surprised,  disproportionately  irritated,  and  sin- 
cerely vexed  with  himself  for  having  spoken  so  incau- 


158  THE  MASSARENES. 

tiously.  He  knew  that  every  one  of  his  words  must  have 
cut  like  a  knife  into  the  sensitive  nerves  of  this  woman 
whom  lie  had  admired  and  who  had  looked  to  him  so 
thoroughbred. 

He  had  felt  more  attracted  to  her  than  he  had  ever  felt 
to  any  stranger,  and  to  receive  this  shock  of  disillusion 
left  him  colder  than  he  had  been  all  day  in  the  mists  and 
the  snow. 

Suddenly  it  flashed  across  his  memory  that  she  must  be 
the  heiress  whom  Mouse  had  desired  him  to  marry.  Sus- 
picion awoke  in  him. 

He  had  not  known  her  but  it  was  very  possible  she  had 
known  him  when  he  had  entered  the  railway  carriage  ; 
she  had  spoken  of  his  likeness  to  his  sister.  Her  avoid- 
ance of  any  hint  as  to  who  she  was  or  whither  she  was 
going  appeared  to  him  to  suggest  design.  Why  had  she 
not  disclosed  her  name  until  the  very  last  moment? 
Though  a  poor  man,  for  his  rank,  he  had  been  a  great 
deal  run  after  by  women  on  account  of  his  physical  beauty, 
and  he  was  wary  and  suspicious  where  women  were  in 
question.  She  had  caught  him  off  his  guard  and  he  re- 
pented it. 

If  she  were  in  truth  William  Massarene's  daughter  she 
probably  knew  the  share  which  his  sister  had  so  largely 
taken  in  the  sales  of  Vale  Royal  and  Blair  Airon  ;  and  in 
the  persuasion  of  society  to  accept  the  purchasers.  He 
did  not  know  the  details  of  his  sister's  diplomacy,  but  he 
guessed  enough  of  them  for  him  to  burn  with  shame  at 
the  mere  conjecture.  When  his  own  kith  and  kin  were 
foremost  in  this  disgraceful  traffic  what  could  his  own 
condemnation  of  it  look  like — hypocrisy,  affectation,  sub- 
terfuge? 

What  had  possessed  him  to  talk  of  such  subjects  on  a 
public  road  to  a  stranger.  He  never  by  any  chance  "  gave 
himself  away."  Why  had  he  done  so  this  day  merely  be- 
cause he  had  felt  as  if  he  had  known  for  years  a  woman 
who  had  beautiful  feet  in  fur-rimmed  boots  and  a  big 
bouquet  of  violets? 

He  was  furious  at  his  own  folly,  and  he  had  told  her 
that  story  of  the  fox  too,  which  he  had  buried  so  closely 
in  his  own  breast  as  men  like  him  do  secrete  all  their  best 


THE  MASSARENES.  159 

impulses  and  emotions  of  which  they  are  more  ashamed 
than  of  any  of  their  sins  and  vices !  He  had  never  been 
so  incensed  and  troubled  about  a  trifle  in  his  whole  life; 
and  all  the  high  breeding  in  him  made  him  feel  the  keenest 
regret  to  have  so  cruelly  mortified  a  woman  about  her  own 
father  and  her  own  position. 

To  a  gentleman  the  knowledge  that  he  has  insulted  a 
person  who  cannot  punish  him  for  it  is  a  very  dreadful 
thing. 

He  had  said  no  more  than  he  meant,  no  more  than  he 
felt,  and  nothing  which  he  would  have  retracted ;  but  he 
was  extremely  sorry  that  he  had  said  it  to  the  daughter 
of  the  man  Massarene.  To  the  man  himself  he  would 
have  had  the  greatest  pleasure  in  saying  it. 

"  What  was  I  about  to  walk  across  country  with  a 
stranger  and  talk  so  indiscreetly  to  her?"  he  asked  him- 
self in  self-reproach  as  sincere  as  it  was  useless. 

She  asked  herself  the  same  question  as  she  dried  her 
snow-wet  clothes  before  the  fire  of  the  Bell  Inn,  and 
offered  all  the  notes  and  gold  in  her  purse  to  have  an  old 
post-chaise  got  ready  at  once,  and  the  shoes  of  two  horses 
soughed. 


160  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHEN  she  reached  Vale  Royal,  which  she  did  late  that 
night,  after  a  dreary  and  dangerous  drive  of  fourteen 
miles,  at  a  walking  pace,  over  frozen  roads,  she  told  her 
parents  of  the  detention  of  the  train  by  the  snow-drift, 
but  she  did  not  tell  them  of  her  meeting  with  Lady  Kenil- 
worth's  brother. 

She  was  tired  and  chilled,  and  went  at  once  to  a  hot 
bath  and  her  bed,  whither  her  mother  brought  her  a  cup 
of  boiling  milk  with  two  spoonsful  of  Cognac  in  it. 

44  It  ought  by  rights  to  be  milked  on  to  the  brandy,"  said 
that  good  lady.  "But  that  can't  be  done  here,  though 
there  are  half  a  score  of  beautiful  Alderneys  standing  on 
the  Home  farm  only  just  to  supply  the  house — and  such 
a  dairy,  my  dear !  Chiny  the  walls  is,  and  marble  the 
floors.  Only  I  don't  hold  with  their  method  of  churning, 
and  the  wenches  are  much  too  fine.  I  showed  'em  how 
to  turn  out  butter  one  day,  and  I  heard  'em  say  as  I  come 
away  that  my  proper  place  was  the  kitchen !  Well,  good- 
night, my  dearie  ;  sleep  well." 

44  Good-night,  dear  mother,"  said  Katherine  with  un- 
usual tenderness,  for  she  was  not  demonstrative,  and  her 
parents  to  her  were  almost  strangers. 

44  It  is  not  her  fault,"  she  thought,  "  if  we  are  upstarts 
and  interlopers  in  this  place  which  Henry  the  Second  gave 
i  the  Roxhalls." 

I  Then  her  great  fatigue  conquered  her  and,  the  brandied 
milk  aiding,  she  fell  sound  asleep  and  slept  dreamlessly 
until  the  chimes  of  the  clock  tower  sounded  eleven  in  the 
still,  sunny,  frosty,  noonday  air. 

Then  she  awoke  with  the  sense  of  something  odiously 
painful  having  happened,  and,  as  she  saw  the  withered 
bouquet  of  violets,  which  she  had  told  her  maid  to  leave, 
with  her  gloves  and  her  muff  on  a  table  near,  she  remem- 
bered, and  the  words  of  Hurstmanceaux  came  back  on  her 
mind  with  poignant  mortification  in  their  memories. 


THE  MASSARENES.  161 

"  How  right  he  was !  Oh,  how  right  he  was !  But  how 
merciless ! "  she  thought,  as  she  looked  through  the  panes 
of  the  oriel  window  of  her  chamber  out  on  to  the  white 
and  silent  park.  She  saw  the  huge  old  oaks,  the  grand 
old  views,  the  distant  mere  frozen  over,  the  deer  crossing 
the  snow  in  the  distance  to  be  fed.  The  bells  of  a  church 
unseen  were  chiming  musically.  In  the  ivy  beneath  her 
windows  two  robins  were  singing  in  friendly  rivalry. 
Above-head  was  a  pale  soft  sky  of  faintest  blue.  In  the 
air  there  was  frost.  It  was  all  charming,  homelike, 
stately,  simple  ;  it  would  have  delighted  her  if — if — if — 
there  was  so  many  44ifs"  she  felt  sick  and  weary  at  the 
mere  thought  of  them,  and  the  innocent  tranquillity  of  the 
scene  jarred  on  all  her  nerves  with  pain. 

It  was  late  in  the  morning  before  she  could  summon 
strength  to  go  downstairs,  where  she  found  her  mother 
lunching  alone  in  the  Tudor  dining- hall;  her  father  had 
gone  away  early  in  a  sledge  to  attend  political  meetings 
in  an  adjacent  county,  and  the  large  house  party  invited 
was  not  due  for  two  weeks. 

44  Who  are  coming,  mother?"  she  asked. 

44  Oh,  my  dear,  I  never  know ;  I  scarce  know  who  they 
are  when  I  see  'em,"  replied  the  present  mistress  of  Vale 
Royal.  "  Lady  Kenilworth  has  arranged  it  all.  She 
brings  her  friends." 

Katherine  colored  at  the  name. 

"  As  she  would  go  to  the  Hotel  de  Paris  at  Monte  Carlo, 
or  the  Sanatorium  at  Hot  Springs ! "  she  said  bitterly. 

44  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that.  She'd  have  to  pay  for 
'em  in  those  places,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  seriously,  not 
intending  any  sarcasm. 

"Don't  you  eat  nothing,  my  dear?"  asked  her  mother 
anxiously.  "  I  can't  say  as  India  have  made  you  fat, 
Kathleen." 

She  smiled  involuntarily. 

44 Surely  you  do  not  wish  me  to  be  fat,  mother?" 

44  Well,  no,  not  exactly.  But  I'd  like  to  see  you  enjoy 
your  food." 

44  Did  she  go  through  the  form  of  showing  you  her  list?  " 

44  No,  my  dear,  she  didn't.  Your  father  knows  who  is 
Coming.  I  did  say  to  her  as  how  J  wished  she'd  bring  her 
11 


162  THE  MASSAEENES. 

children — they  are  such  little  ducks — but  she  gave  a  little 
scoffing  laugh  and  didn't  even  reply." 

44  How  can  you  tolerate  her !  You  should  turn  her  out 
of  the  house !  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Kathleen,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  in  an 
awed  tone.  "  We've  owed  everything  to  her.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  her  I  believe  we  shouldn't  have  known  a  soul 
worth  speaking  of  to  this  day.  That  old  Khris  (though 
he's  a  real  prince)  is  somehow  down  on  his  luck  and  cant 
get  anybody  anywhere.  You've  made  fine  friends,  to  be 
sure,  but  they  didn't  cotton  to  us ;  and  your  Lady  Mary 
— whom  you've  just  come  from — they  say,  isn't  what  she 
should  be." 

"  Is  Lady  Kenilworth  ?  " 

"  Lord,  she  must  be,  my  dear !  Why  she  comes  on  here 
from  Sandringham !  She's  at  the  very  tiptop  of  the  tree. 
She  stays  at  Windsor  and  she  sits  next  the  Queen  at  the 
Braemar  gathering.  What  more  could  you  have?  And 
though  she  does  bite  my  nose  off  and  treat  me  like  dirt  I 
can't  help  being  took  by  her;  there's  something  about  her 
carries  you  off  your  feet  like ;  I  don't  know  what  to  call  it." 

"  Fascination." 

44  Well,  yes ;  I  suppose  you'd  say  so.  It's  a  kind  of 
power  in  her,  and  grace  and  beauty  and  cruelty  all  mixed 
up  in  her,  as  'tis  in  a  pretty  young  cat.  Your  father's  that 
wrapped  up  in  her  he  sits  staring  like  an  owl  when  she's  in 
the  room,  and  I  believe  if  she  told  him  to  hop  on  one  leg 
round  the  Houses  of  Parliament  he'd  do  it  to  please  her." 

44  Does  he  not  see  how  ridiculous  she  makes  him  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  with  solemnity,  "  a 
man  never  thinks  he  is  ridiculous.  He  says  to  himself, 
4  I'm  a  man,'  and  he  gets  a  queer  sort  of  comfort  out  of 
that  as  a  baby  does  out  of  sucking  its  thumb." 

Katherine  smiled  absently. 

44  Does  Lady  Kenilworth  ever  speak  of  her  brother- — her 
eldest  brother,  Lord  Hurstmanceaux  ?  "  she  said  in  an  em- 
barrassed tone,  which  her  mother  did  not  observe. 

44  Yes  ;  she  says  he's  a  bear.  She's  brought  her  brothers- 
in-law,  and  a  good  many  of  her  relations,  her  4  people,'  as 
she  calls  'em,  but  her  own  brothers,  none  of  'em,  ever." 

"This  place  belonged  to  her  cousin." 


THE  MASSARENES.  163 

"Did  it?  I  never  knew  anything  about  it.  Willkm 
came  in  one  day  and  said :  '  I've  bought  a  place  in  the 
shires.  Go  down  there  this  afternoon.'  That  was  all.  I 
was  struck  all  of  a  heap  when  I  saw  it.  And  the  house- 
keeper, who  had  stayed  on  to  go  over  the  inventory,  drew 
herself  up  when  she  met  rne,  stiff  as  stiff,  and  said  to  me, 
4 1  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  release  me  of  my  charge, 
madam.  I  have  always  lived  with  gentlefolks.'  Those 
were  her  very  words,  Kathleen.  A  fine  set-up,  glum- 
looking  woman  she  was,  dressed  in  black  watered  silk, 
and  she  went  off  the  next  morning,  though  we  had  offered 
her  double  her  price  to  remain  under  us.  That's  just, 
you  know,  what  Grigson,  the  courier,  said  once  ;  or  rather, 
he  said  he  wouldn't  live  with  gentlefolks  because  they  was 
always  out  o'  pocket." 

Katherine  moved  restlessly :  words  rose  to  her  lips 
which  she  repressed. 

"And  when  I  go  in  the  village,"  continued  her  mother, 
"there's  nothing  but  black  looks  and  shut  doors,  and  the 
very  geese  on  the  little  common  screech  at  me.  The 
rector's  civil,  of  course,  because  he's  an  eye  to  the  main 
chance,  but  he's  the  only  one ;  and  I'm  afeard  it's  mostly 
because  he  wants  your  father  to  give  him  a  peal  of  bells. 
They  seem  to  think  your  father  should  pay  the  National 
Debt !  " 

Katherine  sighed. 

"  Poor  mother !     Que  de  coulenvres  on  vousfait  avaler  !  " 

"Don't  talk  French,  Kathleen,  I  can't  abide  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Massarene  with  unusual  acerbity.  "  When  we  first 
set  foot  in  Kerosene  City,  a  few  planks  on  the  mud  as 
'twas  then,  a  little  nasty  Frenchman  had  an  eating  shop 
next  ours  and  he  undersold  me  in  everything,  and  made 
dishes  out  of  nothing,  and  such  pastry — light  as  love ! 
My  best  was  lead  beside  it." 

She  continued  to  recall  the  culinary  feats  of  her  Gallic 
rival,  whose  superiority  had  filled  her  with  a  Gallophobia 
deathless  and  pitiless  as  that  of  Francesco  Crispi ;  and  her 
daughter's  thoughts  wandered  away  from  her  to  the  low- 
lying  white  fields  round  Greater  Thrope,  and  to  the  re- 
membrance of  the  dark  blue  eyes  which  had  met  her  own 
so  frankly  through  the  misty  air. 


164  THE  MASSARENES. 

"Would  you  mind  very  much,  mother,"  she  said  at 
length,  u  if  I  did  not  appear  while  these  people  are  here  ? 
I  could  go  to  Lady  Mary's  or  to  Brighton." 

Mrs.  Massarene  was  startled  and  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  my  dearie,  no !  Not  on  any  account.  Your 
father  would  never  forgive  it.  You  have  been  so  much 
away ;  it  has  angered  him  so.  And  as  for  your  views 
and  your  reasons  he'd  never  see  them,  my  dear,  no  more 
than  a  blind  man  can  see  a  church  clock.  Pray  don't 
dream  of  it,  child.  People  say  it  is  so  odd  you  went  to 
India.  They  will  think  you  have  some  skin-disease,  or 
are  light  in  your  head,  unless  you  are  seen  now  at  home." 

Katherine  sighed  again. 

44 1  think  you  do  not  understand,"  she  said  in  a  low, 
grave  voice.  44 1  utterly  disapprove,  I  utterly  abhor,  the 
course  which  my  father  takes.  I  think  his  objects  con- 
temptible and  his  means  to  attain  them  loathsome.  If 
you  only  knew  what  they  look  to  persons  of  breeding  and 
honor!  Society  laughs  at  him  whilst  it  uses  him  and  rules 
him.  He  is  not  a  gentleman.  He  never  will  be  one.  A 
complacent  premier  may  get  him  a  knightage,  a  baronet- 
age, a  peerage ;  and  a  sovereign  as  complacent  may  let 
him  kiss  her  hand.  But  nothing  of  that  will  make  him  a 
gentleman.  He  will  never  be  one  if  he  lived  to  be  a 
hundred  or  if  he  live  to  entertain  emperors.  I  cannot 
alter  his  actions.  I  cannot  open  his  eyes.  I  have  per- 
haps no  right  to  speak  thus  of  him.  But  I  cannot  help 
it.  I  despise  the  whole  miserable  ignominious  farce.  I 
cannot  bear  to  be  forced  to  remain  a  spectator  of  it.  This 
place  is  Lord  Roxhall's.  All  the  money  in  the  world 
cannot  make  it  ours.  We  are  aliens  and  intruders.  All 
the  people  whom  Lady  Kenilworth  will  bring  here  next 
week  will  go  away  to  ridicule  us,  plebeians  as  we  are 
masquerading  in  fine  clothes  and  ancient  houses." 

44  My  dear  !  my  dear  !  "  cried  her  mother  in  great  trep- 
idation. "  You  make  me  all  in  a  cold  tremble  to  hear 
you.  All  you  say  is  gospel  truth,  and  I've  felt  it  many  a 
time,  or  like  to  it,  nr^self.  But  it  is  no  mariner  of  use  to 
say  it.  Your  father  thinks  he's  a  great  man,  and  110- 
body'll  put  him  out  of  conceit  of  himself;  it's  true  that 
as  he  made  his  pile  he's  the  right  to  the  spending  of  it. 


THE  MASSARENES.  165 

Don't  you  talk  of  going  away,  Kathleen.  You  are  the 
only  creature  I  have  to  look  to,  for  I  know  full  well  that 
I'm  only  a  stone  in  your  father's  path  and  a  thorn  in  his 
flesh.  I  can't  kill  myself  to  pleasure  him,  for  't  would  be 
fire  everlasting,  but  1  know  I'm  no  use  to  him  now.  I 
was  of  use  on  the  other  side,  and  he  knew  it  then,  though 
I  can't  call  to  mind  one  grateful  word  as  ever  he  said  to 
me ;  but  he  knew  it,  and  wouldn't  have  got  along  as  fast 
as  he  did  without  me ;  and  nobody  kept  ledgers  better  than 
me,  nor  scrubbed  a  kitchen  table  whiter.  That's  neither 
here  nor  there  now,  however;  and  I'm  in  his  way  now  with 
fine  folks;  and  look  like  'em  I  never  shall.  But  you,  my 
dear,  you  do  look  like  'em,  and  talk  like  'em,  and  carry 
yourself  like  'em.  I  would  call  you  like  an  empress, 
only  I  saw  an  empress  once,  and  she  was  a  little  old  hod- 
medod  of  a  woman  in  a  Shetland  shawl,  and  she  was 
cheapening  shells  on  the  beach  at  Blankenberge ;  and 
you  are  grand  and  stately,  and  fine  as  a  lily  on  its 
stalk.  I  want  them  to  see  what  you  look  like,  my  dear ; 
and  they  won't  laugh  at  you,  that's  certain.  As  for  the 
house,  it's  been  paid  for,  so  I  don't  see  how  you  can  say 
it's  Lord  Roxhall's  still.  He  can't  eat  his  cake  and  have 
it. 

"  And  my  dear  Kathleen,"  she  continued,  changing  the 
subject  with  great  agitation,  "  they  say  you  mustn't  know 
Lady  Mary ;  she,  she,  she  isn't  respectable.  There  is 
something  about  her  boy's  tutor  and  about  a  painter,  a 
house  painter,  even,  they  say." 

Katherine  Massarene  colored.  "  Dear  mother,  I  know 
Lady  Mary  is  not  all  she  might  be.  She  is  light  and 
foolish.  But  when  you  sent  me  to  that  Brighton  school, 
a  little  frightened,  stupid,  miserable  child,  who  could  not 
even  speak  grammatically,  Lady  Mary  noticed  me  when 
she  came  to  see  Enid  and  May  (her  own  daughters),  and 
told  them  to  be  kind  to  me,  and  asked  me  to  spend  the 
holidays  with  them  ;  and  they  were  kind,  most  kind,  and 
never  laughed  at  me,  and  took  pains  to  tell  me  how  to  be- 
have and  how  to  speak ;  and  I  assure  you,  my  dear 
mother,  that  Lady  Mary  might  be  the  worst  woman  under 
the  sun  I  should  never  admit  it,  and  I  should  alwaj^s  be 
grateful  to  her  for  her  goodness  to  me  when  I  was  friend- 


166  THE  MASSARENE8. 

less  and  common  and  ridiculous — a  little  vulgar  chit  who 
called  you  4  Ma.' ': 

Mrs.  Massarene  was  divided  between  wrath  and  emo- 
tion. 

"I  am  sure  you  were  a  well-brought-up  child  from  your 
cradle,  and  pretty-behaved  if  ever  there  were  one,"  she 
said  with  offence.  "And  I  dare  say  she  knew  as  how 
your  fathered  made  his  pile,  and  had  an  eye  on  it." 

"  Oh  no,  oh  no,"  said  Katherine  with  warmth  and 
scorn.  "  Lady  Mary  is  not  like  that,  nor  any  of  her  peo- 
ple ;  they  are  generous  and  careless,  and  never  calculate ; 
they  are  not  like  your  Kenilworths  and  Karsteins.  She 
is  a  very  thoroughbred  woman,  and  to  her  novi  homines  are 
novi  homines,  however  gilded  may  be  their  stucco  pedes- 
tals." 

Happily  the  phrase  was  incomprehensible  to  her  hearer, 
who  merely  replied  obstinately  :  "  Well,  they  tell  me 
she's  ill  spoke  of,  and  I  can't  have  you  mixed  up  with  any 
as  is ;  but  if  she  was  kind  to  you,  my  dear,  and  I  mind 
me  well  you  always  wrote  about  her  as  being  such,  I'll  do 
anything  to  help  her  in  reason.  You  know,  my  dear,"  she 
added,  lowering  her  voice,  for  the  utterance  was  treason- 
able, "I  have  found  out  as  how  all  them  great  folks  are 
all  hollow  inside,  as  one  may  say.  They  live  uncommon 
smart,  and  whisk  about  all  the  year  round,  but  they're  all 
of  'em  in  Queer  Street,  living  by  their  wits,  as  one  may 
say  ;  now  I  be  bound  your  Lady  Mary  is  so  too,  because 
she's  a  duke's  daughter,  and  her  husband  came  into  the 
country  with  King  Canute,  him  as  washed  his  feet  in  the 
sea — at  least  the  book  says  so — and  anything  she'd  like 
done  in  the  way  of  money  I'd  be  delighted  to  do,  since  she 
was  good  to  you " 

44  Oh,  my  dear  mother,"  cried  Katherine,  half  amused 
and  half  incensed,  "pray  put  that  sort  of  thing  out  of 
your  mind  altogether.  Lady  Mary  has  everything  she 
wants,  and  if  she  had  not  she  would  die  sooner  than  say 
so.  And  indeed  they  are  quite  rich.  Not  what  my  father 
would  call  so  probably,  but  enough  so  for  a  county  family 
which  dates,  as  you  rightly  observe,  from  Knutt." 

Mrs.  Massarene  sighed  heavily;  she  was  bewildered 
but  she  was  obstinate. 


THti  MASSARENES.  167 

"  Drmonds  then  ? "  she  said  tentatively.  "  None  of 
them  ever  have  enough  cli'monds.  One  might  send  her  a 
standup  thing  for  her  head  in  di'monds — tira  I  think  they 
call  it ;  and  say  as  how  we  are  most  grateful  all  of  us, 
but  you  can't  be  intimate  because  virtue's  more  than 
rank." 

Katherine  rose  with  strong  effort  controlling  the  deep 
anger  and  the  irresistible  laughter  which  moved  her. 

"We  will  talk  of  these  things  another  time,  dear,"  she 
said  after  a  moment.  "Lady  Mary  will  not  be  in  London 
this  season  after  Whitsuntide.  Enid  and  May  go  out  this 
year  with  their  grandmother,  Lady  Chillingham." 

"  That's  just  what  she  said,"  cried  her  mother  in 
triumph.  "  She  said  Lady  Mary  couldn't  show  her  nose 
at  Court  even  to  present  her  own  girls  !  " 

"  Who  said  so  ?  " 

"  Lady  Kenil worth." 

"Lady  Kenilworth  a  purist !  I  fear  she  could  give  my 
poor  Lady  Mary  a  good  many  points " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Lady  Kenilworth  knows  the 
world." 

"  That  no  one  doubts.  And  I  dare  say  she  would  take 
the  tiara,  my  dear  mother." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  and  you  have  a  very  rude 
way  of  speaking." 

"  Forgive  me,  dear !  "  said  her  daughter  with  grace  and 
penitence.  "I  do  not  like  your  guide,  philosopher  and 
friend,  though  she  is  one  of  the  prettiest  women  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life." 

"  Well,  you  can't  say  she  doesn't  go  to  Court,"  cried 
Mrs.  Massarene  in  triumph. 

"I  am  quite  sure  she  will  go  to  Court  all  her  life,"  re- 
plied Katherine  Massarene — an  answer  on  which  her 
mother  pondered  darkly  in  silence.  It  must  be  meant  for 
praise,  it  could  not  be  meant  for  blame  ;  and  yet  there  was 
a  tone  in  the  speaker's  voice,  a  way  of  saying  this  appar- 
ently acquiescent  and  complimentary  phrase,  which 
troubled  its  hearer. 

"  Her  answer's  for  all  the  world  like  a  pail  of  fine  milk 
spoilt  by  the  cow  having  ate  garlic,"  thought  Mrs.  Massa- 
rene, her  mind  reverting  to  happy  homely  dacys  in  the 


168  THE  MASSARENES. 

dairy  and  the  pastures  with  Blossom  and  Bee  and  Butter- 
cup, where  Courts  were  realms  unknown. 

Katherine  was  silent. 

She  felt  the  absolute  impossibility  of  inducing  her 
mother  to  make  any  stand  against  the  way  of  life  which 
to  herself  was  so  abhorrent;  or  even  to  make  her  compre- 
hend the  suffering  it  was  to  her  finer  and  more  sensitive 
nature.  Her  mother  disliked  the  life  because  it  worried 
her  and  made  her  feel  foolish  and  incapable,  but  she  could 
not  reach  any  conception  of  the  torture  and  degradation 
which  it  appeared  to  Katherine.  If  she  had  possessed 
any  power,  any  influence,  if  she  had  been  able  to  return 
in  kind  the  insolence  she  winced  under,  and  the  patronage 
she  so  bitterly  resented,  things  would  have  seemed  differ- 
ent to  her;  but  she  could  do  nothing,  she  could  only  re- 
main the  passive  though  indignant  spectator  of  what  she 
abhorred. 

To  her  the  position  was  false,  contemptible,  infamous, 
everything  which  Hurstmanceaux  had  called  it ;  and  she 
was  compelled  to  appear  a  voluntary  sharer  in  and  acces- 
sory to  it.  The  house,  beautiful,  ancient,  interesting  as  it 
was,  seemed  to  her  only  a  hateful  prison — a  prison  in 
which  she  was  every  day  set  in  a  pillory. 

All  the  underlings  of  the  gardens,  the  stables,  the  Home 
farm,  the  preserves,  showed  the  contempt  which  they  felt 
for  these  unwelcome  successors  of  the  Roxhall  family. 

"  One  would  think  one  had  not  paid  a  single  penny  for 
the  place,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene,  who,  when  she  asked  the 
head  gardener  at  what  rate  he  sold  his  fresias,  was  met  by 
the  curt  reply,  "  We  don't  sell  no  flowers  here,  mum. 
Lord  Roxhall  never  allowed  it." 

"  But,  my  good  man,"  said  his  present  mistress,  "  Lord 
Roxhall's  gone  for  ever  and  aye ;  he's  naught  to  do 
with  the  place  any  more,  and  to  keep  all  these  miles  of 
glass  without  making  a  profit  out  of  them  is  a  thing  I 
couldn't  hold  with  anyhow.  Nobody's  so  much  money 
that  they  can  afford  waste,  Mr.  Simpson ;  and  what  we 
don't  want  ourselves  must  be  sold." 

"That  must  be  as  you  choose,  mum,"  said  the  head 
gardener  doggedly.  "You'll  suit  yourself  and  I'll  suit 


THE  MASSARENES.  1G9 

myself.  I've  lived  with  gentlefolk  and  I  hain't  lived  with 
traders." 

At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Winter,  who  had  of  course 
brought  down  his  household,  was  saying  to  the  head 
keeper : 

"  Yes,  it  does  turn  one's  stomach  to  stay  with  these 
shoeblacks.  It's  the  social  democracy,  that's  what  it  is. 
But  the  old  families  they're  all  run  to  seed  like  your 
EoxhalFs;  they  expect  one  to  put  up  with  double-bedded 
rooms  and  African  sherrys.  I  am  one  as  always  stands 
up  for  the  aristocracy,  but  their  cellars  aren't  what  they 
were  nor  their  tables  neither.  That's  why  they're  always 
dining  theirselves  with  the  sweeps  and  the  shoeblacks." 

In  happy  ignorance  that  his  groom  of  the  chambers  was 
describing  him  as  a  sweep  and  a  shoeblack,  William  Mas- 
sarene,  with  a  marquis,  a  bishop,  and  a  lord-lieutenant 
awaiting  him,  was  driving  to  address  a  political  meeting 
in  the  chief  town  of  South  Woldshire. 

When  he  got  up  on  his  dog-cart,  correctly  attired  in  the 
garb  and  the  gaiters  of  a  squire  of  high  degree,  and  drove 
over  to  quarter  sessions,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been  a  jus- 
tice of  the  peace  and  the  master  of  Vale  Royal  all  his  life. 
He  really  handled  horses  very  well ;  his  driving  was  some- 
what too  flashy  and  reckless  for  English  taste,  but  the 
animal  had  never  been  foaled  which  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  break  in  ;  he  who  had  ridden  bronchos  bare- 
backed, and  raced  blue  grass  trotters,  arid  this  power 
stood  him  in  good  stead  in  such  a  horsy  county  as  Wold- 
shire. 

The  snow  was  gone  and  the  weather  was  open.  There 
was  the  prospect  of  political  changes  in  the  air,  and,  in  the 
event  of  a  general  election,  his  chiefs  of  party  desired 
that  he  should  represent  his  county  instead  of  continuing 
member  for  that  unsound  and  uncertain  metropolitan 
division,  which  he  did  actually  represent.  To  feel  the 
way  and  introduce  him  politically  in  the  borough  before 
there  should  be  any  question  of  his  being  put  up  for  it, 
those  who  were  interested  in  the  matter  had  got  up  a 
gathering  of  county  notabilities  on  a  foreign  question  of 
the  moment,  which  was  supposed,  as  all  foreign  questions 
always  are,  to  involve  the  entire  existence  of  England. 


170  THE  MASSARENES. 

He  had  been  told  what  to  say  on  these  questions,  and 
although  it  seemed  to  him  "  awful  rot,"  like  everything 
inculcated  by  his  leaders,  he  said  it  obediently,  and  re- 
freshed himself  afterwards  by  some  personal  statements. 
Amongst  men,  on  public  matters  he  always  showed  to  ad- 
vantage. He  was  common,  ignorant,  absurd,  very  often ; 
but  he  was  a  man,  a  man  who  could  hold  his  own  and  had 
a  head  on  his  shoulders.  That  mastery  of  fate  which  had 
made  him  what  he  was  gave  meaning  to  his  dull  features, 
and  light  to  his  dull  eyes.  No  one,  as  modern  existence 
is  constituted,  could  separate  him  altogether  from  the 
weight  of  his  ruthless  will,  and  the  greatness  of  his  ac- 
complished purpose  ;  he  stood  on  a  solid  basis  of  acquired 
gold.  Before  a  fine  lady  he  shook  in  his  shoes,  and  before 
a  prince  he  trembled ;  but  at  a  mass-meeting  he  was  still 
the  terrible,  the  formidable,  the  indomitable,  "  bull-dozing 
boss "  of  Kerosene  City.  His  stout  hands  gripped  the 
rail  in  front  of  him,  while  their  veins  stood  out  like 
cords,  and  his  rough  rasping  voice  made  its  way  through 
the  wintry  air  of  England,  as  it  had  done  through  a  bliz- 
zard on  the  plains  of  the  West. 

*'  I've  been  a  workingman  myself,  gentlemen,"  he  said, 
amidst  vociferous  cheers,  "  and  if  I'm  a  rich  man  to-day 
it's  been  by  my  own  hand  and  my  own  head  as  I've  be- 
come so.  I've  come  home  to  die  "  (a  voice  in  the  crowd : 
"You'll  live  a  hundred  years!"),  "but  before  I  die  I 
want  to  do  what  good  I  can  to  my  country  and  my  fellow- 
countrymen."  (Vociferous  cheers.)  "Blood's  thicker 
than  water,  gentlemen " 

The  applause  here  was  so  deafening  that  he  was  forced 
to  pause ;  this  phrase  never  fails  to  raise  a  tempest  of  ad- 
miration, probably  because  no  one  can  ever  possibly  say 
what  it  is  intended  to  mean. 

"  I  know  the  institutions  of  my  country,  gentlemen,"  he 
continued,  "  and  I  am  proud  to  take  my  humble  share  in 
holding  them  steady  through  stormy  weather.  I  have 
lived  for  over  thirty  years,  gentlemen,  in  a  land  where  the 
institutions  are  republican,  and  I  wish  to  speak  of  that 
great  republic  with  the  sincere  respect  I  feel.  But  a  re- 
publican form  of  government  would  be  wholly  unfitted 
for  Great  Britain." 


THE  MASSARENE8.  171 

«  Why  so?  "  asked  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

Mr.  Massarene  did  not  feel  called  on  to  answer  so  in- 
discreet a  question ;  he  continued  as  though  no  one  had 
spoken. 

"  The  foundations  of  her  greatness  lie  embedded  in  the 
past,  and  are  inseparably  allied  with  her  institutions.  The 
courage,  honor  and  patriotism  of  her  nobility  "  (the  mar- 
quis with  a  gratified  expression  played  with  his  watch- 
chain),  "  the  devotion,  purity,  and  self-sacrifice  of  her 
church  "  (the  prelate  patted  the  black  silk  band  on  his 
stomach  and  purred  gently  like  a  cat),  "  the  examples  of 
high  virtue  and  wisdom  which  have  adorned  her  throne  " 
(the  lord-lieutenant  looked  ecstatic  and  adoring,  as  a  pil- 
grim of  Lourdes  before  the  shrine) — "all  these,  gentlemen, 
have  made  her  what  she  is,  the  idol  of  her  sons,  the  terror 
of  her  foes,  the  bulwark  at  once  of  religious  faith  and  of 
religious  freedom.  The  great  glory  of  our  country,  sirs, 
is  that  poor  and  rich  are  equal  before  the  law  "  ("  Yah !  " 
from  a  rude  man  below),  "  and  that  the  roughest,  most 
friendless  lad  may  by  probity  and  industry  reach  her  high- 
est honors.  I  myself  left  Queenstown,  gentlemen,  a  young 
fellow  with  three  pounds  in  my  pocket  and  a  change  of 
clothes  in  a  bundle,  and  that  I  have  the  honor  of  address- 
ing you  here  to-day  is  due  to  the  fact  that  I  toiled  hon- 
estly from  morning  till  night  for  more  than  thirty  years 
in  exile.  It  was  the  hope  of  coming  back,  sirs,  and  set- 
tling on  my  native  soil,  which  kept  the  heart  up  in  me 
through  hunger  and  thirst,  and  heat  and  cold,  and  such 
toil  as  here  you  know  nothing  about.  I  was  a  poor  work- 
ing lad,  gentlemen,  with  three  pounds  in  my  pocket,  and 
yet  here  I  stand  to-day  the  equal  of  prince  and  peer " 
(the  marquis  frowned,  the  bishop  fidgetted,  the  lord-lieu- 
tenant coughed,  but  Mr.  Massarene  was  emballe,  and 
heeded  not  these  hints  of  disapprobation).  "  What  do 
you  want  with  republican  institutions,  my  friends,  when 
under  a  monarchy  the  doors  of  wealth  and  honor  open 
wide  to  the  laboring  man  who  has  had  sense  and  self- 
denial  enough  to  work  his  way  upward  ?  "  ("  They  open 
to  a  golden  key,  damn  your  jaw  !  "  cried  a  vulgar  being  in 
the  mob  below.)  "  who  by  honesty  and  economy,  and  in- 
cessant toil,  has  come  to  put  his  legs  under  the  same  ma- 


172  THE  MASSARENES. 

hogany  with  the  highest  of  the  land.  You  talk  of  golden 
keys,  sir — the  only  key  to  success  is  the  key  of  character. 
Before  I  give  my  hand,  sir,  whether  to  prince  or  pauper, 
I  ask — what  is  his  character  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  dear  me,  this  is  very  irrelevant,"  murmured 
the  lord-lieutenant,  much  distressed. 

"  Damned  inconvenient,"  murmured  the  marquis  with  a 
chuckle.  The  bishop  folded  his  hands  and  looked  rapt 
and  pious.  But  the  mayor  of  the  borough,  with  despera- 
tion, plucked  at  the  orator's  coat  tails. 

"Order,  order,"  he  murmured  with  a  clever  adaptation 
of  parliamentary  procedure  ;  and  Mr.  Massarene,  whose 
ear  was  quick,  and  who  was  proud  of  his  knowledge  of 
the  by-words  of  the  benches,  understood  that  he  was  irrel- 
evant and  on  ticklish  grounds,  and  brought  forward  a 
racy  American  anecdote  with  ready  presence  of  mind  and 
extreme  success  ;  whilst  the  crowd  below  roared  with  loud 
and  delighted  laughter.  The  gentlemen  at  his  elbow 
breathed  again.  There  had  been,  in  a  ducal  house  of  the 
countryside,  a  very  grave  scandal  a  few  months  earlier ;  a 
scandal  which  had  become  town-talk,  and  even  been 
dragged  into  the  law  courts.  It  would  never  do  to  have 
the  yokels  told  their  "  character "  was  a  patrician  or 
political  sine  qua  non. 

On  the  whole  the  speech  was  a  very  popular  one  ;  the 
new  owner  of  Vale  Royal  was  welcomed.  Too  egotistic 
in  places,  and  too  unpolished  in  others,  it  was  vigorous, 
strong,  and  appealed  forcibly  to  the  mob  by  its  picture  of 
a  herdsman  with  three  pounds  in  his  pocket  become  a 
capitalist  and  a  patron  of  princes. 

To  his  own  immediate  and  aristocratic  supporters  its 
effect  was  less  inspiriting.  He  gave  them  distinctly  to 
understand  the  quid  pro  quo  which  he  gave  and  expected. 

"  If  he  don't  get  what  he  wants  from  our  side  he'll  rat 
as  sure  as  he  lives,"  thought  the  lord-lieutenant ;  and  the 
mayor  thought  to  himself  that  it  would  really  have  been 
better  to  have  left  the  metropolitan  division  its  member 
ungrudged. 

"What  a  fearful  person,"  said  the  lord-lieutenant,  a 
tall  slender  man  with  fair  hair  turning  grey,  and  a  patri- 
cian face,  blank  and  dreary  in  expression,  though  many 


THE  MASSARENES.  173 

years  of  conflict  between  a  great  name  and  a  narrow  in- 
come. 

"  His  speech  was  quite  Radical.  I  really  did  not  know 
how  to  sit  still  and  hear  it,"  whispered  the  bishop  in  a 
tone  of  awe  arid  horror. 

The  marquis  lighted  a  cigar.  "  Never  mind  that.  It 
took  with  the  yokels.  Hell  vote  straight  for  us.  He 
wants  a  peerage." 

"  Gladstone  would  give  him  a  peerage." 

"  Of  course.  But  Gladstone's  peerages  are  like  Glad- 
stone claret — unpleasantly  cheap.  Besides,  our  man 
loves  smart  folks — the  liberals  are  dowdy ;  our  man  loves 
*  proputty,'  like  the  northern  farmer,  and  the  liberals  are 
always  nibbling  into  it  like  mice  into  cheese.  Besides, 
Mouse  Kenilworth's  godmother  to  this  beast ;  she  has  put 
him  in  the  way  he  should  go." 

"  I  wish  she  would  write  his  speeches  for  him,"  said  the 
bishop. 

"  Took  with  the  yokels,  took  with  the  yokels,"  repeated 
the  marquis.  "  Ain't  that  what  speeches  are  made  for  ? 
People  who  can  read  don't  want  to  be  bawled  at.  Man 
will  do  very  well,  and  we  shall  have  him  in  the  Lords ; 
he'll  call  himself  Lord  Vale  Royal,  I  suppose — ha  I  ha  ! — 
poor  Roxhall ! " 

The  lord-lieutenant,  who  could  not  accept  the  social 
earthquake  with  the  serenity  of  his  friend,  shivered,  and 
went  to  his  carriage. 

"I  shall  go  and  ask  our  candidate  for  some  money," 
murmured  the  bishop,  whose  carriage  was  not  quite 
ready. 

The  marquis  grinned.  "  Nothing  like  a  cleric  for 
thinking  of  the  main  chance  !  "  he  said  to  himself. 

The  bishop  hesitated  a  few  moments,  looked  up  at  the 
steps  of  the  hotel,  and  hastened  across  the  market-place 
as  rapidly  as  his  portly  paunch  and  tight  ecclesiastical 
shoes  permitted.  Mr.  Massarene  was  standing  on  the  top 
of  the  step  with  three  of  his  supporters.  The  churchman 
took  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  thick  vellum-like  paper, 
evidently  a  memorial  or  a  subscription-list. 

"  For  the  rood-screen,"  he  murmured.  "A  transcendent 
work  of  art.  And  the  restoration  of  the  chauntry.  Dear 


174  THE  MASSARENE8. 

Mr.  Massarene,  with  your  admirable  principles,  I  am  sure 
we  may  count  on  your  support?" 

William  Massarene,  with  his  gold  pencil  case  between 
his  thick  finger  and  thumb,  added  his  name  to  the  list  on 
the  vellum-like  scroll. 

The  lord-lieutenant  was  on  that  list  for  twenty  guineas; 
Lord  Roxhall  for  ten  guineas.  William  Massarene  wrote 
himself  down  for  two  hundred  guineas. 

"  Back  the  Church  for  never  forgetting  to  do  business," 
said  the  marquis  with  a  chuckle  to  himself;  and  he  too 
mounted  the  hotel  steps  as  his  ecclesiastical  friend  de- 
scended them,  after  warmly  and  blandly  pressing  the 
candidate's  hand  and  inviting  him  to  dinner  at  the  episco- 
pal palace. 

"  Booking  a  front  seat  in  heaven,  Mr.  Massarene  ?  "  he 
cried  out  in  his  good-humored  contemptuous  voice. 
"  Well,  come,  do  something  for  earth  too.  You  haven't 
subscribed  to  the  Thorpe  Valley  Hounds.  Got  to  do  it, 
you  know.  Hope  you're  sound  about  Pug." 

The  marquis  had  been  master  of  the  pack  for  a  dozen 
years. 

"  I'm  no  sportsman,"  said  his  victim,  who  had  no  notion 
who  or  what  Pug  was.  "But  if  it's  the  custom  in  the 
county " 

"  Of  course  it's  the  custom  of  the  county  !  Roxhall, 
poor  fellow,  was  a  staunch  friend  to  us.  You  mustn't  be 
otherwise.  We'll  draw  Vale  Royal  coverts  for  cubs  next 
October.  Mind  you're  sound  about  Pug." 

"May  I  ask  what  Lord  Roxhall  subscribed?  " 

"  Fifty  guineas,"  said  the  M.  F.  H.  truthfully. 

Mr.  Massarene  planted  his  legs  a  little  further  apart 
and  thrust  out  his  stomach. 

"  I'll  give  four  fifties  to  the  dogs,"  he  said  with  gran- 
deur. 

"  The  dogs  !  "  ejaculated  the  marquis  ;  but  he  restrained 
his  emotions  and  grasped  his  new  subscriber's  hand 
cordially. 

"  The  Kennels  and  the  Cathedral  got  the  same  measure," 
he  thought  with  amusement,  as  he  nodded  good-hu- 
moredly  to  the  crowd  below  and  entered  the  hotel  to  get 
a  nip  of  something  warm. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  175 

" Deuced  clever  of  the  Bishop;  I  shouldn't  have 
thought  of  making  the  cad  4  part.'  What  an  eye  the 
saints  always  have  on  the  money-bags,"  he  thought  as  he 
drank  some  rum-punch. 

But,  being  a  cheery  person  who  took  the  world  as  he 
found  it,  he  said  to  his  wife  when  he  got  home  that  day : 
"  Go  and  call  at  Vale  Royal,  Anne  ;  the  man's  a  very  good 
fellow.  No  nonsense  about  his  origin.  Told  us  all  he 
began  life  with  three  pounds  in  his  pocket.  Don't  like 
going  to  see  'em  in  Roxhall's  place  ?  Oh,  Lord,  my  dear, 
that's  sentiment.  If  Roxhall  hadn't  sold  the  place  they 
couldn't  have  bought  it,  could  they  ?  " 

"  But  why  should  we  know  them  ?  "  said  the  lady,  who 
was  unwilling  to  accord  her  countenance  to  new  people. 

"Because  he's  promised  two  hundred  guineas  to  the 
4  dogs,'"  said  the  marquis  with  a  chuckle,  "and  because 
he's  a  pillar  of  the  Tory  Democracy,  my  dear !  " 

44  Tory  Democracy  ?  A  contradiction  in  terms !  "  said 
the  lady.  "  You  might  as  well  say  Angelic  Anarchy  I  " 

44  We  shall  come  to  that,  too,"  said  her  spouse. 


176  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  snow  was  gone,  but  it  was  still  cold  and  unpleasant 
weather  when  the  ruler  of  Mr.  Massarene's  fate,  accom- 
panied by  a  score  or  more  intimate  acquaintances  who 
had  been  persuaded  to  patronize  "  Billy,"  arrived  in  the 
dusk  at  Vale  Royal  with  an  enormous  amount  of  luggage 
and  a  regiment  of  body-servants  and  maids. 

"  You  needn't  have  come  to  meet  us.  I  know  my  way 
about  here  better  than  you  do,"  was  the  ungracious  salu- 
tation with  which  the  host,  who  had  gone  himself  to  the 
station,  was  met  by  the  object  of  his  veneration.  She 
never  flattered  him  now ;  she  had  got  him  well  in  hand  ; 
it  was  no  longer  necessary  to  do  violence  to  her  nature  ; 
when  one  likes  the  use  of  the  spur  one  does  not  humor 
one's  horse  with  sugar;  she  thought  the  spur  and  the 
whip  salutary  for  him,  and  employed  them  with  scant 
mercy. 

She  mounted  as  lightly  as  a  young  cat  to  the  box  of  the 
four-in-hand  break,  took  the  reins,  and  drove  her  mesmer- 
ized, trembling  yet  enchanted  victim  through  the  dusky 
lanes  and  over  the  muddy  roads  which  were  familiar  to  her, 
the  lights  of  the  lamps  flashing,  and  the  chatter  and 
laughter  of  the  other  occupants  of  the  break  bringing  the 
laboring  people  out  of  their  cottages,  as  the  lady  whom 
they  knew  so  well  flew  by  them  in  the  twilight. 

"  Seems  kind  o'  heartless  like  in  Lady  Kenny  to  go  to 
the  great  house  now  the  poor  lord's  in  it  no  more  ;  him 
her  own  cousin  and  all,"  said  a  young  woman  to  her  hus- 
band who  was  only  a  hedger  and  ditcher,  but  a  shrewd 
observer  in  his  way,  and  who  replied,  as  he  looked  after 
the  four  white-stockinged  bays  :  "  Lady  Kenny  aren't  one 
to  cry  for  spilt  milk  ;  she  knows  where  her  bread  is  but- 
tered. Lord,  gal,  'twas  she  made  Roxhall  sell,  and  I'll 
take  my  oath  as  I  stands  here  that  most  o'  the  blunt  went 
in  her  pocket." 

All  the  people  for  forty  miles  round  were  of  the  same 
opinion,  and  owed  her  a  grudge  for  it.  Roxhall  had  been 


THE  MASSARENES.  177 

a  very  popular  landlord  and  employer;  his  tenantry  and 
laboring  folks  mourned  for  him,  and  despised  the  new  man 
who  stood  on  his  hearthstone.  Quite  indifferent,  how- 
ever, to  the  voces  populi  she  drove  safely  through  the 
familiar  gates  and  up  the  mile -long  avenue  as  night  de- 
scended, and  went  into  the  library,  looking  very  handsome 
with  her  blue  eyes  almost  black,  and  her  fair  face  bright 
and  rosy,  from  the  chilly  high  winds  of  the  bleak  April 
evening. 

She  pulled  off  her  sealskins  and  threw  them  to  one  of 
her  attendant  gentlemen,  and  then  walked  forward  to  the 
warmth  of  the  great  Elizabethan  fireplace.  "  Well,  my 
dear  woman,  how  do  you  like  it?  "  she  said  good-humor- 
edly  to  Margaret  Massarene,  as  she  drew  off  her  gloves 
and  took  a  cup  of  tea  before  the  hearth  where  a  stately 
fire  was  burning  for  its  beauty's  sake  :  the  great  room  was 
heated  by  hot  water  pipes.  Margaret  Messarene  was  in 
that  dual  state  of  trepidation,  anxiety,  offence,  and  be- 
wilderment into  which  the  notice  of  her  monitress  invaria- 
bly plunged  her.  She  murmured  some  inarticulate  words, 
and  glanced  timidly  at  the  bevy  of  strangers.  But  Mouse 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  introduce  her  friends  to  their 
hostess ;  some  of  them  were  already  acquainted  with  her, 
but  some  were  not :  all  with  equal  and  unceremonious 
readiness  ignored  her  presence,  and  descended  on  the  tea- 
cups and  muffins  and  caviare  sandwiches  with  the 
unanimity  of  a  flock  of  rooks  settling  down  on  to  a  field 
mined  with  wire  worms. 

"  Always  had  tea  in  here  in  Gerald's  time,"  said  one  of 
the  men,  staring  about  him  to  see  if  there  was  any  altera- 
tion made  in  the  room. 

"I  don't  think  you  know  my  daughter,"  Mrs.  Massasene 
summed  courage  to  murmur,  with  a  nervous  glance  to- 
ward Katherine,  who  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  wide 
chimney-piece,  a  noble  piece  of  fine  oak  carving  with  huge 
silver  dogs  of  the  Stuart  period,  and  the  Roxhall  arms  in 
bold  bosses  above  it. 

Mouse,  looking  extremely  like  her  brother,  flashed  her 
sapphire  eyes  like  a  search  light  over  the  face  and  figure 
of  the  person  in  whom  she  had  by  instinct  divined  an  an- 
tagonist, and  desired  to  find  a  sister-in-law. 
12 


178  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  So  glad,"  she  murmured  vaguely,  as  she  put  down  her 
cup,  and  held  out  her  hand  with  a  composite  grace  all  her 
own,  at  once  charmingly  amiable  and  intolerably  insolent. 

Katherine  merely  made  her  a  low  curtsey,  and  did  not 
put  out  her  hand  in  return. 

"How's  Sherry  and  Bitters?"  asked  Lady  Kenil worth, 
marking  but  ignoring  the  rudeness.  "  Amusing  creature. 
isn't  he  ?  Bored  to  death,  I  suppose,  in  India  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  difficult,  I  think,  for  the  most  stupid  per- 
son to  be  bored  in  India,"  replied  Katherine  briefly. 
44  Lord  Framlingham  is  not  stupid." 

Lady  Kenil  worth  stared.  Then  she  laughed,  as  it  was 
so  very  comical  to  find  Billy's  daughter  such  a  person  as 
this. 

"I  saw  from  that  bust  of  Dalou's  that  she  wouldn't  be 
facile"  she  reflected.  "  Looks  as  if  she  thought  pump- 
kins of  herself;  if  she's  cheeky  to  me  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  her." 

Katherine  was  very  cold,  very  pale,  very  still ;  the  men 
did  not  get  on  with  her,  and  soon  abandoned  the  attempt 
to  do  so.  The  ladies,  after  staring  hard,  scarcely  noticed 
her  or  her  mother,  but  chattered  amongst  themselves  like 
sparrows  on  a  house  roof  after  rain.  With  swelling  heart 
she  felt  their  gaze  fixed  on  her ;  two  of  them  put  up  their 
eyeglasses.  She  wore  a  plain  silver-colored  woolen  gown, 
but  their  experienced  eye  recognized  the  cut  of  a  famous 
faiseur,  and  the  natural  lines  of  her  form  were  unusually 
perfect. 

"  TrZs  lien  mise;  trh  simple,  mais  tres  bien"  said  a 
Parisienne,  Duchesse  de  Saint-Avit,  quite  audibly,  gazing 
at  her  as  if  she  were  some  curious  piece  of  carving  like 
the  fireplace. 

" JElle  n'est  pas  mal  du  tout"  returned  a  foreign  diplo- 
matist quite  audibly  also,  as  though  he  were  in  the  stalls 
of  a  theatre. 

"  Sullen,  is  she  ?  "  thought  Mouse,  toasting  one  of  her 
pretty  feet  on  the  fender.  "  Gives  herself  airs,  does  she  ? 
That's  old  Fram's  doing,  I  expect." 

Ignoring  her  as  an  unknown  quantity,  to  be  seen  to  at 
leisure  and  annihilated  if  needful,  she  turned  to  her  host, 
who  was  standing  awkwardly  behind  the  brilliant  throng. 


THE'  MASSARENES.  179 

"  Got  my  telegram  about  the  Bird  rooms  ? "  she  said 
sharply.  She  would  have  spoken  more  civilly  to  an  hotel- 
keeper. 

The  Bird  rooms  were  a  set  of  three  rooms,  bed,  dress- 
ing, and  sitting-room;  their  walls  painted  with  birds  and 
flowers  on  a  pale-blue  ground,  their  silk  hangings  and  fur- 
niture of  corresponding  color  and  design  ;  and  many  birds 
in  Chelsea  and  Battersea,  majolica,  terra  de  pipa,  and 
other  china  and  pottery,  on  the  tables  and  cabinets.  She 
did  not  care  a  straw  about  the  birds ;  but  they  were  the 
warmest,  cosiest  rooms  in  the  house  facing  full  south,  and 
were  detached  from  observation  in  a  manner  which  was 
agreeable  and  convenient ;  and  she  had  sent  a  brief  dis- 
patch that  morning  to  command  their  reservation  for  her- 
self. Country  houses  are  always  selected  with  regard  to 
their  conveniences  for  innocent  and  unobserved  inter- 
course. 

The  Bird  rooms  were  duly  assigned  to  her,  and  Mr. 
Massarene  himself  had  walked  through  them  that  morn- 
ing to  make  sure  that  they  were  thoroughly  warmed,  that 
the  writing  table  was  properly  furnished,  and  that  the 
rarest  flowers  had  been  gathered  for  the  vases  on  the 
table  ;  he  with  eagerness  assured  her  that  her  word  had 
been  law. 

"  I  hope  you  haven't  altered  anything  there  ?  "  she  said, 
taking  up  her  gloves.  "  It's  very  absurd,  you  know,  to 
put  Turkish  screens  and  lamps  in  an  old  Tudor  room  like 
this.  They've  smartened  the  place  up,"  she  said  to  her 
friends,  looking  about  her.  "  That  open  work  cedar 
wood  screen  wasn't  across  that  door  in  Gerald's  time,  nor 
those  great  bronze  lamps  hanging  over  there.  Where'd 
you  get  them,  Billy?  They  look  like  Santa  Sophia." 

But  she  did  not  listen  to  Billy's  reply.  She  was  look- 
ing at  the  mulberry-colored  velvet  curtains  which  replaced 
in  the  windows  the  somewhat  shabby  and  frayed  hangings 
of  her  cousin's  reign. 

"  I  wish  I  had  come  here  last  year,"  she  said  to  her  dis- 
comfited host.  "  You  should  have  touched  nothing.  A 
place  like  this  doesn't  want  Bond  Street  emptied  into  it. 
I  don't  know  what  Gerald  would  say.  He'd  be  dreadfully 
angry.* 


180  THE  MASSARENES. 

Mr.  Massarene  thought  that  Lord  Roxhall  had  parted 
with  his  right  to  be  angry  ;  but  he  dared  not  say  so.  He 
murmured  that  he  was  sorry ;  whatever  there  might  be 
that  was  not  suitable  should  be  removed. 

"  Can't  you  see  how  wrong  it  all  is?  "  asked  his  tyrant 
impatiently. 

He  regretfully  confessed  his  utter  inability  to  see  it ; 
was  grieved  they  were  incorrect;  they  should  be  moved 
to-morrow. 

"  Lady  Kenilworth  is  a  purist,"  said  his  daughter  in 
clear  cold  tones.  "New  people  who  come  into  old  houses 
are  of  necessity  eclectic." 

Her  father  frowned.  He  did  not  know  what  eclectic 
meant,  but  he  supposed  it  meant  something  vulgar.  His 
guest  stared  :  if  Billy's  daughter  were  cheeky  like  this  it 
would  be  necessary,  she  thought,  to  take  her  down  a  peg 
or  two.  But  she  was  forced  to  confess  to  herself  that  the 
daughter  of  the  house  did  not  look  like  a  person  whom  it 
would  be  easy  to  take  down,  either  one  peg  or  many. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  your  rooms,  ma'am  ?  "  mur- 
mured her  hostess,  when  the  tea  had  been  drunk  and  the 
chatter  had  ceased  for  a  minute  and  the  sound  of  the  first 
dinner-gong  boomed  through  the  house. 

"  My  dear  woman,"  replied  Mouse,  "  I  know  the  place 
better  than  you  do !  But,  really,  if  I  shall  find  Pekin 
mandarins  on  oak  banisters,  and  Minton  plaques  on  Tudor 
panels,  I  shall  not  have  strength  to  go  up  the  staircase ! " 

"What  do  she  mean?"  murmured  Margaret  Massarene. 

"  She  means  to  be  insolent,"  replied  her  daughter,  and 
the  reply  was  not  in  a  very  low  tone.  But  Lady  Kenil- 
worth was  or  pretended  to  be  out  of  hearing,  going  out  of 
the  library  with  two  of  her  special  friends  and  calling  on 
others  to  come  with  her  and  see  what  the  vandals  had 
done  :  the  gong  was  booming  loudly. 

William  Massarene  was  inexpressibly  mortified ;  the 
more  keenly  so  because  if  he  had  listened  to  Prince  Khris 
two  years  before  he  would  not  have  had  Bond  Street  and 
the  Rue  de  Rivoli  emptied  into  a  beautiful,  hoary,  sombre, 
old  Tudor  house. 

Mouse  felt  no  qualms  whatever  at  seeing  the  new  peo- 
ple in  the  old  house.  She  had  been  unable  to  understand 


THti  MASSAEENES.  181 

why  Roxhall  would  not  himself  come  with  her.  But  some 
people  were  so  whimsical  and  faddish  and  sentimental. 
They  spoiled  their  own  lives  and  bothered  those  of  others. 
She  thought  it  was  good  fun  to  see  William  Massarene  in 
the  old  Tudor  dining-hall  and  his  wife  in  the  beautiful 
oval  Italian  drawing-room.  Roxhall  would  not  have  seen 
the  fun  of  it,  but  men  are  so  slow  to  catch  a  joke. 

"They  are  so  deliciously  ridiculous  and  incongruous! " 
she  said  to  one  of  her  companions. 

She  had  brought  a  "rattling  good  lot"  with  her;  smart 
women  and  cheery  men  who  could  ride  to  hounds  all  day 
and  play  bac'  all  night,  or  run  twenty  miles  to  see  an  otter- 
worry  and  be  as  "fresh  as  paint"  next  morning;  people 
with  blue  blood  in  their  veins,  and  good  old  names,  and 
much  personal  beauty  and  strength,  and  much  natural 
health  and  intelligence ;  but  who  by  choice  led  a  kind  of 
life  beside  which  that  of  an  ape  is  intellectual  and  that  of 
an  amoeba  is  useful ;  people  who  were  very  good-natured 
and  horribly  cruel,  who  could  no  more  live  without  excite- 
ment than  without  cigarettes,  who  were  never  still  unless 
their  doctor  gave  them  morphia,  who  went  to  Iceland  for 
a  fortnight  and  to  Africa  for  a  month ;  who  never  dined 
in  their  own  homes  except  when  they  gave  a  dinner-party, 
who  could  not  endure  solitude  for  ten  minutes,  who  went 
anywhere  to  be  amused,  who  read  nothing  except  tele- 
grams, and  who  had  only  two  cares  in  life — money  and 
their  livers. 

They  came  down  to  Vale  Royal  to  be  amused,  to  eat 
well,  to  chatter  amongst  themselves  as  if  they  were  on  a 
desert  island,  to  carry  on  their  flirtations,  their  meetings, 
their  intrigues,  and  to  arrange  the  pastimes  of  their  days 
and  nights  precisely  as  they  pleased  without  the  slightest 
reference  to  those  who  entertained  them. 

"What  would  you  like  to  do  to-morrow?"  their  host 
had  ventured  to  say  to  one  of  them,  and  the  guest  had  re- 
plied, "  Oh,  pray  don't  bother ;  we're  going  somewhere, 
but  I  forget  where." 

They  had  brought  a  roulette  wheel  with  them,  and  cards 
and  counters;  for  their  leader  knew  by  experience  that 
the  evenings  without  such  resources  were  apt  to  be  dull 
at  Vale  Royal.  William  Massarene,  indeed,  had  provided 


182  THE  MASSAEENES. 

forms  of  entertainment  such  as  were  unattainable  by  the 
limited  means  of  the  Roxhall  family.  He  had  caused  ad- 
mirable musicians,  good  singers,  even  a  choice  little  troupe 
of  foreign  comedians,  to  be  brought  down  for  this  famous 
week  in  which  the  azure  eyes  of  his  divinity  smiled  upon 
him  under  his  own  roof-tree.  But  there  was  one  diversion 
which  she  considered  superior  in  its  attractions  to  any- 
thing which  tenors  and  sopranos,  viols  and  violins,  or  even 
Palais  Royal  players,  could  give  her,  and  that  diversion 
she  took  without  asking  the  permission  of  anybody. 
There  was  a  with-drawing-room  at  Vale  Royal  which  was 
always  known  as  the  Italian  Room  because  some  Venetian 
artist,  of  no  great  fame  but  of  much  graceful  talent,  had 
painted  ceiling  and  walls,  as  was  proven  by  old  entries  in 
account  books  of  the  years  1640-50,  contained  in  the 
muniment-room  of  the  Roxhalls.  On  the  third  night  after 
their  arrival,  when  they  were  all  in  this  Italian  room,  after 
a  short  performance  by  the  Parisian  comedians,  a  long 
table  of  ebony  and  ivory  was  unceremoniously  cleared  of 
the  various  objects  of  art  which  had  been  placed  on  it,  arid 
the  roulette-wheel  was  enthroned  there  instead  by  the 
hands  of  Lady  Kenilworth  herself,  and  the  little  ball  was 
set  off  on  its  momentous  gyrations. 

She  was  looking  more  than  ever  like  a  lovely  flower, 
with  a  turquoise  collar  round  her  throat,  and  real  forget- 
me-nots  fastened  by  diamonds  in  her  hair.  For  some 
minutes  William  Massarene,  who  had  slept  through  the 
French  comedy,  and  was  still  drowsy,  did  not  become 
sensible  of  what  was  taking  place  in  his  drawing-room. 
But  when  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  merry  gamblers 
reached  his  ear  and  he  realized  with  difficulty  what  was 
taking  place,  a  heavy  frown,  such  as  Kerosene  City  had 
learned  to  dread,  stole  on  his  brows,  and  a  startled  horror 
opened  wide  his  eyes. 

Play  !     Play  under  his  roof ! 

All  his  Protestant  and  Puritan  soul  awoke.  A  large 
portion  of  his  earliest  gains  had  been  made  by  the  miners 
and  navvies  and  cowboys  who  had  gathered  to  stake  their 
dollars  in  the  back  den  of  his  shop  in  Kerosene  City ;  and 
later  on  he  had  made  millions  by  his  ownership  of  private 
hells  in  larger  towns  of  the  United  States ;  and  the  very 


THE  MASSARENES.  183 

thought  of  gambling  was  odious  to  him  because  he  felt 
that  these  were  portions  of  his  past  on  which  no  light 
must  ever  shine.  He  felt  that  he  owed  it  to  the  con- 
science which  he  had  acquired  with  his  London  clothes 
and  his  English  horses  to  prohibit  all  kinds  of  play,  how- 
ever innocent,  in  his  own  drawing-rooms.  He  crossed  the 
room  and,  nervously  approaching  the  leader  of  the  band, 
ventured  to  murmur  close  to  her  ivory  shoulder:  "You 
never  said  you  meant  to  play,  Lady  Kenil worth.  I  can't 
have  any  play — I  can't  indeed — in  my  house." 

His  tone  was  timid  and  imploring.  He  was  frightened 
at  his  own  temerity,  and  grew  grey  with  terror  as  he 
spoke.  She  turned  her  head  and  transfixed  him  with  the 
imperious  challenge  of  her  glance. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  my  good  man  ?  "  she  said 
in  her  clearest  and  unkindest  tone.  "  It  is  not  your  house 
when  I'm  in  it." 

"But  I  can't  allow  play,"  he  murmured,  with  a  gasp. 
"  It's  against  my  principles." 

"  Don't  talk  rot,  Billy ! "  she  cried  with  impatience. 
"Who  cares  about  your  principles?  Keep  them  for  the 
hustings." 

Then  she  turned  the  ivory  shoulder  on  him  again,  and, 
amidst  the  vociferous  laughter  of  the  circle  of  players, 
William  Massarene,  feeling  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself,  hastily  and  humbly  retreated. 

The  merriment  pealed  in  louder  ecstasy  up  to  the  beau- 
tiful painted  ceiling,  as  she  cried  after  the  retreating 
figure :  "  You  go  to  bed,  Billy— go  to  bed  I  Or  we 
sha'n't  let  you  dine  with  us  to-morrow  night !  " 

"  You're  rather  rough  on  the  poor  beast,  Lady  Kenny," 
said  one  of  the  players  who  was  next  her. 

"  Billy's  like  a  Cairo  donkey — he  must  feel  the  goad 
and  be  gagged,"  replied  Mouse,  sweeping  her  counters 
together  with  a  rapacious  grace  like  a  hawk's  circling 
flight. 

Then  the  little  ball  ran  about  in  its  momentous  gyra- 
tions, and  the  counters  changed  hands,  arid  the  game  went 
on  all  the  giddier,  all  the  merrier,  because  "  Billy  thought 
it  improper." 

Katherine  rose  from  her  seat  by  the  pianoforte  and 


184  THE  MASSARENES. 

came  to  her  father's  side.  Indignation  shone  in  her  lus- 
trous eyes,  while  a  flash  of  pain,  of  shame,  and  of  anger 
burned  on  her  cheeks. 

"  Father,  oh,  father !  "  she  said  in  a  low,  intense  mur- 
mur, "  send  them  away !  They  insult  you  every  hour, 
every  moment !  Why  do  you  endure  it  ?  Turn  them  all 
out  to-morrow  morning!" 

"  Mind  your  own  business !  Do  I  want  any  lessons 
from  you,  damn  you  ? "  said  Massarene,  in  a  sullen 
whisper,  more  infuriated  by  her  perspicuity  than  by  the 
facts  on  which  her  appeal  to  him  was  based. 

His  daughter  shrank  a  little,  like  a  high  spirited  animal 
unjustly  beaten — not  from  fear,  but  from  wounded  pride 
and  mute  disgust.  She  went  back  to  the  pianoforte  and 
opened  the  book  of  "  Lohengrin." 

He  threw  himself  heavily  into  an  armchair,  and  took  up 
an  album  of  Caran  d'Ache  drawings  and  bent  over  it,  not 
seeing  a  line  of  the  sketches,  and  not  being  able  to  read 
a  line  of  the  jests  appended  to  them.  All  he  saw  was 
that  lovely  figure  down  there  at  the  roulette-table, 
with  the  forget-me-nots  in  her  glittering  hair  and  at 
her  snowy  bosom,  and  the  turquoise  collar  round  her 
throat. 

"Billy!" 

No  one  had  ever  called  him  Billy  since  the  time  when 
he  had  been  a  cowboy,  getting  up  in  the  dark  in  bitter 
winter  mornings  to  pitchfork  the  dung  out  of  the  stalls, 
and  chop  the  great  swedes  and  mangolds,  and  break  the 
ice  in  the  drin king-trough.  Never  in  all  her  life  had  his 
wife  ever  dared  to  call  him  Billy.  He  knew  the  name 
made  him  ridiculous  ;  he  knew  that  he  was  the  object  of 
all  that  ringing  laughter;  he  knew  that  he  was  made 
absurd,  contemptible,  odious ;  but  he  would  not  allow  his 
daughter,  nor  would  he  allow  any  other  person,  to  say  so. 
He  was  hypnotized  by  that  fair  patrician  who  threw  the 
mud  in  his  face ;  the  mud  smelt  as  sweet  to  him  as 
roses.  It  was  only  her  pretty,  airy,  nonchalant  way — the 
way  she  had  de  par  la  grace  de  Dieu  which  became  her  so 
well,  which  was  part  and  parcel  of  her,  which  was  a 
mark  of  grace,  like  her  delicate  nostrils  and  her  arched  in* 
step. 


THE  MASSARENES.  185 

When  she  had  tired  of  her  roulette,  it  irritated  her  ex- 
tremely to  see  the  large  gorgeous  form  of  Mrs.  Massarene 
dozing  on  a  couch  and  waking  up  with  difficulty  from 
dreams,  no  doubt,  of  cowslip  meadows  and  patient  cows 
whisking  their  tails  over  the  dew  ;  and  the  erect  figure  of 
her  daughter  sitting  beside  the  grand  piano  and  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  musical  scores. 

"  Why  don't  you  send  your  women  to  bed,  Billy  ?  "  she 
said  to  him  very  crossly.  "  It  fidgets  one  to  see  them 
eternally  sitting  there  like  the  Horse  Guards  in  their 
saddles  at  Whitehall.  Politeness  ?  Oh,  is  it  meant  for 
politeness  ?  Well,  I  will  give  them  a  dispensation,  then. 
Do  tell  them  to  go  to  bed  ;  I  am  sure  good  creatures 
like  those  have  lots  of  prayers  to  say  before  they  go  to 
by-bye !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  and  your  mother  go  to  your  rooms  ? 
We  are  all  of  us  very  late  people,"  she  said,  directly,  as 
she  passed  Katherine  Massarene. 

"  You  are  my  parents'  guest,  Lady  Kenilworth ;  I  en- 
deavor not  to  forget  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  does  she  mean  by  that  ?  "  her  guest  wondered  ; 
she  thought  she  meant  some  covert  rebuke.  She  did  not 
at  all  like  the  steady  contemptuous  gaze  of  this  young 
woman's  tranquil  eyes. 

44  Oh,  my  dear,  how  dreadfully  old-fashioned  and  formal 
you  are  !  "  she  cried,  with  an  impatient  little  laugh ;  and 
the  daughter  of  the  house  thought  her  familiarity  more 
odious  than  her  rudeness.  She  perceived  the  impression 
she  made  on  the  young  woman  whom  she  meant  to  marry 
Ronald. 

1  "  You  see,  I  feel  quite  at  home  here,"  she  added  by  way 
of  explanation.  "  Of  course,  you  know  it  was  my  cousin's 
house." 

"  I  wonder  you  like  to  come  to  it,"  said  Katherine  as 
she  paused.  "  It  must  be  painful  to  see  it  in  the  hands  of 
strangers,  and  those  strangers  common  people." 

"  How  droll  you  are  !  "  cried  Mouse,  with  another  little 
laugh.  "I  am  sure  we  shall  be  great  friends  when  we 
come  to  know  each  other  well." 

Katherine  was  silent;  and  Mouse,  slightly  disconcerted, 
bade  her  a  brief  good  night,  and  took  her  own  way  to  the 


186  THE  MASSARENES. 

Bird  rooms.  For  once  in  her  life  she  had  met  a  person 
whom  she  did  not  understand. 

"  Ronald  shall  marry  her,  but  I  shall  always  hate  her," 
she  thought,  as  she  went  to  the  Bird  rooms.  "  However, 
everybody  always  hates  their  sisters-in-law,  whoever  they 
may  be." 

The  young  woman  seemed  intolerably  insolent  to  her : 
so  cold,  so  grave,  so  visibly  disapproving  herself;  it  was 
quite  insupportable  to  have  Billy's  daughter  giving  herself 
grand  airs  like  a  tragedian  at  the  Frangais.  But  for  her 
intention  to  make  Ronald  marry  the  Massarene  fortune  she 
would  have  expressed  her  surprise  and  offence  in  un- 
equivocal terms. 

"  Really,  these  new  people  are  too  absurd,"  she  thought, 
as  her  maid  disrobed  her  whilst  the  chimes  of  the  clock 
tower  rung  in  the  fourth  hour  of  the  morning.  "  Too  in- 
finitely absurd.  They  must  know  that  we  don't  come  to 
their  houses  to  see  them ;  and  yet  they  will  stay  in  their 
drawing-rooms  like  so  many  figures  of  Tussaud.  It  is 
really  too  obtuse  and  ridiculous." 

She  was,  however,  too  sleepy  to  reflect  longer  on  their 
stolid  obstinacy,  or  to  decide  how  she  should  on  the  mor- 
row best  teach  them  their  place. 


TEE  MASSAEENES.  187 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  ELLE  a,  du  chic  ;  elle  a  positivement  du  chic"  said  the 
Duchesse  d'Avit  to  her  friends,  in  her  great  astonish- 
ment at  the  appearance  and  manner  of  the  daughter  of  the 
house. 

"  It's  easy  to  look  chic  when  one's  got  as  good  a 
figure  as  she  has,"  said  one  of  the  other  ladies,  rather 
crossly.  "  She  does  look  like  a  well-bred  person,  I  admit, 
but  I  dare  say  the  cloven  foot  will  show  in  some  way  or 
another." 

They  all  watched  for  it  with  curiosity,  so  far  at  least  as 
they  troubled  themselves  to  notice  her  at  all.  But  they 
failed  to  perceive  it.  They  found  that  she  rode  extremely 
well,  and  played  wonderfully  well  too,  but  no  one  got  on 
with  her.  She  was  extraordinarily  silent,  and  they  could 
not  divine  that  she  held  her  tongue  so  obstinately  because 
she  feared  every  moment  that  some  stinging  word  would 
escape  her. 

The  week  seemed  to  her  a  year.  She  could  not  see  the 
comedy  of  the  thing  as  Framlingham  had  advised  her  to 
do.  She  could  only  resent  helplessly,  censure  mutely, 
despise  unavailingly,  and  suffer  secretly.  She  might  have 
been  some  doomed  queen,  passing  from  the  prison  to  the 
scaffold  ;  and  all  the  incessant  chatter  and  laughter  around 
her  awoke  no  echo  in  her ;  it  always  sounded  to  her 
derisive,  a  mockery  of  the  absurdity  of  William  Massarene 
masquerading  as  a  country  gentleman.  She  had  read  a 
good  deal  of  philosophy,  but  she  could  not  practice  any. 
The  only  tolerable  moments  of  the  day  or  night  to  her 
were  when  she  was  alone  in  her  own  rooms  with  a  stray 
rough  large  dog  of  nondescript  breed  she  had  found  and 
adopted. 

"  If  you  must  have  a  filthy  beast  of  that  kind,  why 
don't  you  buy  a  decent  bred  one?"  said  her  father. 
"  They  price  'em  as  high  as  a  thousand  guineas  at  the 
shows." 


188  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  A  dog  who  will  sell  for  a  thousand  guineas,"  she  re- 
plied, "  will  never  want  friends  as  long  as  the  world  is  of 
its  present  complexion." 

William  Massarene  swore  an  ugly  oath. 

"  Why  will  you  rile  your  father  in  that  way  ? "  said 
Margaret  Massarene,  as  he  left  the  room.  "You  know 
gold's  his  god.  And  let  me  tell  you,  my  dear,  that  if  ye'd 
ever  known  what  'tis  to  want  it,  ye'd  tell  a  different  tale. 
You've  never  had  to  want  nor  to  wait  for  naught,  for  when 
ye  was  little  I  never  stinted  ye.  Your  brothers  had  died 
of  the  hard  life,  and  you'd  come  late  when  I  could  do  more 
for  ye.  Your  father's  a  great  man,  my  dear,  and  you  should 
respect  him,  if  there  be  failings  as  ye  would  change  in  him." 

"No  doubt  you  are  right,  mother,"  said  her  daughter 
humbly. 

Perhaps,  she  thought,  she  was  too  unmindful  of  all  that 
they  had  done  for  her.  But,  oh,  if  they  had  only  left  her 
to  teach  their  letters  to  little  rough  children  in  the  back 
woods,  or  play  the  harmonium  in  some  little  iron  church 
buried  in  the  pine  gloom  of  some  clearing ! 

"  You  must  stay  in  my  rooms,"  she  said  to  the  dog, 
"and  only  go  out  with  me  and  never  chase  the  deer,  nor 
go  into  the  covers,  for  you  are  in  a  civilized  country  which 
prides  itself  on  its  progress  and  piety,  and  whose  men  of 
light  and  leading  slaughter  harmless  creatures  for  pleasure 
every  season  of  the  year.  You  are  a  mongrel,  they  say, 
poor  boy?  Well,  I  believe  you  are.  But 4  hath  not  a  Jew 
eyes?'  Has  not  a  mongrel  nerves  to  wince,  and  a  heart 
to  ache,  and  a  body  to  feel  cold  and  pain  and  hunger,  and 
a  fond  soul  to  love  somebody,  if  there  be  only  somebody 
to  love  him?" 

And  the  dog  looked  at  her  with  his  pathetic  golden- 
brown  eyes  and  understood,  and  was  comforted. 

Katherine  Massarene,  in  her  ignorance  of  the  manifold 
wheels  within  wheels  of  a  temperament  and  character  like 
that  of  her  father's  most  honored  guest,  thought  that  at 
least  Lady  Kenilworth  showed  some  decent  feeling  in  not 
being  accompanied  by  Lord  Brancepeth. 

In  point  of  fact  she  had  not  brought  Harry  because  she 
retained  a  vivid  recollection  of  his  expressed  desire  to  be 
allowed  to  ally  himself  with  the  heiress  of  Vale  Royal, 


THE'  MASSARENES.  189 

Besides,  Harry,  like  greater  men,  had  substitutes,  and  one 
of  them  had  come  down  with  her;  a  very  agreeable  and 
accomplished  foreign  diplomatist  whose  wife  was  remain- 
ing at  Sandringham,  a  gentleman  who  would  have  been 
able  to  add  many  chapters  to  the  Psychologie  de  V Amour, 
who  considered  that  brevity  was  the  soul  of  love  as  of 
wit ;  and  who  had  a  good-humored  contempt  for  Harry, 
such  as  very  clever  persons  who  are  also  amiable  feel  for 
other  persons  not  very  clever  whom  they  are  outwitting 
with  discretion  and  amusement. 

"  Pauvre  yar^on!  il  prend  la  chose  en  bon  pdre  defamille" 
he  said  once,  looking  at  Harry  carrying  little  Gerry  on  his 
shoulders,  with  Jack  clinging  to  his  coat-pockets,  in  the 
park  at  Staghurst. 

The  gentleman  preferred  episodes  which  could  be  enjoyed 
like  cigarettes,  but,  in  this  to  cigarettes  superior,  leave  no 
ash  nor  even  a  bit  of  burnt  paper  behind  them.  This  dis- 
tinguished representative  of  a  Great  Power  was  met  by 
Mr.  Massarene  early  one  morning,  when  he  went  to  see 
if  the  heating  apparatus  in  the  corridor  was  duly  at  the 
proper  degree  of  caloric  in  the  long  tapestry-hung  gallery 
which  led  to  the  Bird  rooms,  and  led  nowhere  else.  He 
was  so  unpleasantly  astonished  at  the  meeting  that  he 
stared  open-mouthed  at  the  elegant  form  of  this  gentle- 
man, who,  after  a  rapid  glance  round,  which  told  him  that 
to  conceal  himself  was  impossible,  sauntered  on  calmly  till 
he  was  close  to  his  host,  who  kept  the  knob  of  an  open 
valve  in  his  hand. 

"  I  hear  you  have  some  wonderful  Battersea  and  Chelsea 
in  there,  Monsieur,"  he  said  with  his  soft  meridional  ac- 
cent. "  Miladi  Kenilworth  kindly  offered  to  show  it  to 
me,  but  her  maid  says  she  is  gone  in  the  garden." 

Mr.  Massarene,  to  whom  the  words  were  somewhat  un- 
intelligible from  their  foreign  pronunciation,  only  heard 
distinctly  Battersea  and  Chelsea,  names  to  him  only  sug- 
gestive of  Primrose  Habitations  and  political  gatherings. 
He  repeated  the  words  mechanically  and  apologetically. 

"  Faience,"  said  the  diplomatist  in  explanation ;  "  china 
birds,  very  rare,  very  old,  very  curious." 

Mr.  Massarene's  countenance  cleared  a  little.  "  Oh,  yes 
I  believe  there  is  some  old  china  in  that  apartment.  I 


190  THE  MA8SARENES. 

could  take  your  Excellency  in  to  see  it  if  Lady  Kenilworth 
lias  gone  out ;  did  her  maid  say  that  she  had  ?  " 

Though  the  ambassadors  countenance  was  trained  to 
express  nothing  it  did  express  for  an  instant  a  lively  alarm. 

"Oh,  some  other  time,  on  some  other  occasion,"  he  said 
hurriedly.  "It  would  not  do  at  all  to  go  into  a  lady's 
chambers  in  her  absence." 

Mr.  Massarene  felt  that  he  had  committed  a  solecism  in 
proposing  such  a  thing.  Yet  to  his  homely  mind  it  seemed 
a  still  greater  offence  to  go  into  her  chamber  when  she  was 
present. 

He  was  perplexed,  and  uncertain  of  his  ground,  and  in- 
timidated by  the  rank  and  aspect  of  this  notable  foreigner ; 
but  he  looked  with  an  odd  expression  in  his  eyes  at  the 
dressing-gown  of  old-gold  silk  lined  with  pale  rose  plush 
in  which  the  slender  person  of  the  visitor  to  the  china  birds 
was  arrayed.  It  might  be  the  custom  for  dilettanti  to  pay 
early  morning  visits  in  this  kind  of  attire  to  see  works  of 
art,  but  he  did  not  think  that  it  was  so.  He  was  oppressed, 
amazed,  annoyed,  what  his  guest  in  the  dressing-gown 
would  have  called  ombrageux,  and  two  conflicting  feelings 
were  at  work  within  him :  one  a  sombre  jealousy  and  the 
other  that  offended  sense  of  outraged  propriety  natural  to 
the  class  to  which  he  belonged. 

But  he  was  not  sure  of  his  ground,  he  scarcely  dared  to 
realize  what  he  suspected,  and  he  was  afraid  of  this  grand 
gentleman,  who,  on  arrival,  had  offered  him  the  tips  of  two 
fingers  and  had  said  that  the  day  was  cold,  and  had  from 
that  moment  completely  forgotten  his  existence,  so  that 
the  urbanity  and  familiarity  of  this  address  in  the  corridor 
roused  suspicion  as  well  as  embarrassment  in  his  breast. 
To  think  that  his  house  should  be  used  to  shelter  improper 
dalliance  awakened  all  the  Puritan  element  in  his  Protes- 
tant breast,  whilst  as  well  as  his  outraged  morality  there 
arose  in  him  a  different,  a  more  personal,  feeling  of  wrath, 
vexation,  and  impatient  envy;  ridiculous,  he  knew,  but 
unconquerable.  But  the  diplomatist  did  not  wait  for  him 
to  disentangle  his  sentiments,  nor  did  he  offer  any  reason 
for  the  untimely  hour  of  his  own  artistic  ardor  of  investi- 
gation. 

" AM  revoir,  mon  Ion"  he  said  carelessly,  and  sauntered 


THE1  MASSARENES.  191 

on  till  he  reached  the  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  gallery 
and  vanished. 

Mr.  Massarene  shut  the  valve  of  the  heating-apparatus, 
and  sighed ;  it  was  probably  the  first  time  in  his  unsenti- 
mental existence  that  he  had  ever  sighed.  How  many 
things  he  had  still  to  learn ! 

"  Don't  you  keep  a  plumber,  Billy  ?  "  said  Mouse  very 
sharply,  later  in  the  day;  "don't  you  keep  a  plumber? 
What  do  you  potter  about  the  pipes  yourself  for?  You 
woke  me  this  morning  opening  and  shutting  those  valves 
in  the  gallery." 

He  muttered  his  regrets.  He  was  about  to  say  that  a 
distinguished  guest  had  told  him  that  she  was  already  out 
in  the  gardens  at  the  time  of  his  inspection  of  the  heating- 
apparatus;  but  he  perceived  that  he  was  on  slippery 
ground,  and  he  held  his  tongue,  observing  meekly  that  he 
was  very  afraid  of  fires,  that  servants  were  a  bad  lot,  not 
to  be  trusted,  and  that  it  was  through  their  negligence 
that  overheated  flues  burned  down  half  the  country  houses 
in  England.  But  he  saw  that  she  was  deeply  and  inex- 
plicably displeased. 

As  for  the  diplomatist,  he  was,  of  course,  sufficiently 
trained  in  diplomacy  to  give  no  signs  of  displeasure ;  but 
in  his  secret  soul  he  was  extremely  worried  by  his  meet- 
ing with  his  host  in  the  corridor,  for  though  Lady  Kenil- 
worth  was  a  lovely  woman,  and  a  very  seductive  one,  yet 
to  be  the  temporary  substitute  of  that  excellent  young 
guardsman  who  carried  her  children  pick-a-back  had  its 
dangers  for  an  eminent  person  whom  a  public  scandal 
would  ruin.  He  wished  her  and  the  china  birds  and  his 
own  dressing  gown  at  the  devil.  He  had  no  fane}'  for  a 
cigarette  which  would  burn  the  fingers  which  held  it; 
some  unimportant  telegrams  were  brought  to  him  an  hour 
later,  and  he  made  believe  that  one  of  them  was  important 
and  took  his  departure  before  dinner  for  London. 

"  Your  Excellency  will  not  see  the  china  birds  ?  "  said 
William  Massarene  quietly  and  drily,  with  a  finesse  which 
astonished  the  hearer  as  he  accompanied  his  departing 
guest  to  the  carriage.  Their  eyes  met.  They  understood 
each  other. 

"  It  will  be  an  excuse  to  return  to  your  amiable  hos- 


1913  THE  MASSARENES. 

pitalities,"  said  the  eminent  person  with  a  charming  smile 
and  an  adorable  salutation. 

" Hours  saurait  mordre"  he  thought,  as  he  leaned  back 
in  the  bear's  warm  little  station-brougham. 

The  departure  annoyed  Mouse  unspeakably.  He  was 
only  an  episode;  but,  as  an  episode  should  be,  amusing 
and  interesting.  He  was  a  man  of  many  brilliant  bonnes 
fortunes,  and  the  stories  he  had  told  her  of  women  she 
hated  were  beyond  measure  diverting.  She  treated  her 
host  more  cruelly  than  ever;  and  had  never  felt  so  irri- 
tated at  the  sight  of  his  short  squat  figure,  and  his  broad 
rough  hands,  and  his  splay  feet  in  his  varnished  shoes. 

Mr.  Massarene  was  much  exercised  in  his  mind  as  to 
his  idol.  He  could  not  get  the  diplomatist  in  the  elegant 
dressing-gown  out  of  his  mind;  and  he  also  heard  on  all 
sides  that  the  handsome  fool,  of  whom  he  had  purchased 
Blair  Airon,  was  undoubtedly  considered  as  "  best  friend  " 
of  the  lady  who  had  been  the  intermediary  in  that  sale. 
These,  and  various  similar  facts,  left  him  no  peace  in  his 
private  reflections,  and  tormented  him  the  more  because 
he  did  not  venture  to  unburden  his  wrath  to  the  fair  cause 
of  it.  He  had  been  a  virtuous  man  all  his  life  ;  he  had 
had  no  time  to  be  otherwise  ;  he  had  been  so  busy  eight- 
een hours  out  of  the  twenty -four  making  money  that  the 
other  six  he  had  spent  in  eating  like  a  hungry  hound,  and 
sleeping  like  a  tired  dray-horse.  Vice  had  always  repre- 
sented itself  to  him  as  waste  of  precious  time  and  waste 
of  precious  dollars.  His  rare  concessions  to  it  had  been 
grudging  and  hurried,  like  his  attendance  at  church. 

His  discovery  disturbed  him  exceedingly,  not  only  be- 
cause he  was  a  very  moral  man  who  considered  that  im- 
morality ought  to  be  punished  (he  had  once  even  made 
one  of  a  body  of  moral  citizens  who,  in  a  township  of  the 
West,  had  stripped  and  beaten  a  local  Guinevere  and 
tarred  and  feathered  her  Lancelot),  but  he  was  also 
visited  by  that  bluest  of  blue  devils  who  had  never  paid 
him  a  visit  in  his  life  before — jealousy. 

She  knew  it  very  well,  and  it  diverted  her,  though  it 
appeared  to  her  as  preposterous  as  if  her  pad-groom  had 
been  jealous.  But  he,  who  did  not  exactly  know  what 
ailed  him,  suffered  alternately  from  the  irritation  and  the 


THE  MASSARENES.  193 

depression  common  to  all  those  in  whose  breasts  the 
green-eyed  monster  has  found  a  throne. 

"  Billy,  come  and  talk  to  me,"  said  his  enslaver  the  last 
evening  of  her  visit.  Mr.  Massarene  obeyed,  fascinated 
out  of  any  will  of  his  own,  and  in  love  with  his  own  deg- 
radation as  fakirs  with  their  torture.  She  saw  his 
struggles  and  tortures,  which  seemed  to  her  as  preposter- 
ous in  him  as  they  would  have  seemed  in  a  stableman  or 
a  street-sweeper.  But  though  she  had  no  patience  with 
them  she  turned  them  to  account. 

She  was  sitting  in  a  very  low  long  chair  in  a  nook  of 
one  of  the  drawing-rooms  amongst  flowers;  she  wore  a 
black  lace  gown  with  immense  transparent  sleeves,  and 
some  strings  of  pearls  were  wound  round  her  throat ;  her 
skin  looked  fairer  than  ever,  her  eyes  bluer,  her  hair  love- 
lier. He  took  meekly  the  low  seat  she  assigned  to  him, 
though  it  had  no  rest  for  his  back,  and  gazed  at  her,  re- 
membering despite  himself  the  Chelsea  and  Battersea 
birds  and  the  connoisseur  who  had  wished  to  see,  or  had 
seen,  them.  He  was  not  deceived  by  her  for  a  moment, 
but  he  was  hypnotized. 

"There  is  something  I  want  you  to  do,  Billy,"  she 
added  very  candidly — she  was  always  candid  in  manner. 
Mr.  Massarene  murmured  that  she  had  only  to  command 
and  he  only  to  obey. 

"  That  is  very  nice  of  you,  but  there  are  other  people 
in  it,"  she  replied.  He  waited  mutely  to  hear  more.  She 
sent  some  cigarette  smoke  across  his  eyes.  "  I  mean  you 
to  marry  your  daughter  to  my  brother." 

He  was  silent. 

The  thought  was  not  new  to  his  own  mind ;  he  had  felt 
sure  that  she  would  desire  it ;  but  to  himself  it  presented 
no  attractions ;  he  did  not  understand  the  antiquity  and 
purity  of  the  Courcy  blood,  and  his  own  ambitions  for  his 
heiress  ranged  in  much  loftier  spheres. 

"Why  don't  you  answer?  "said  Mouse,  beginning  to 
feel  offence.  "  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have 
been  overjoyed." 

"  They  don't  know  each  other,"  he  objected  feebly. 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  When  you  and  I  settle 
a  thing  that  thing  has  to  be  done.  Ronnie  and  your 
13 


194  THE  MASSARENES. 

daughter  were  made  in  heaven  for  each  other ;  they  are 
both  awfully  stiff,  intensely  disagreeable,  and  preemi- 
nently virtuous.  There'd  be  no  more  cakes  and  ale  in 
our  world  if  those  two  could  reform  it." 

Mr.  Massarene  was  still  mute  ;  he  did  not  at  all  know 
what  to  say ;  at  last  he  asked  humbly  if  Lord  Hurstman- 
ceaux  had  said  anything  on  the  subject. 

"  I  haven't  consulted  him,"  she  replied,  this  time  with 
genuine  candor.  "I  never  consult  people  when  I  am 
acting  for  their  good,  and  my  brother  never  talks  unless 
he  lectures  somebody.  This  thing  has  to  be  done,  Billy. 
You  know  when  I  say  a  thing  I  mean  it." 

"But  you  laugh  at  my  daughter,"  he  said  with  hesita- 
tion. 

"  Oh,  I  laugh  at  everybody,"  said  Mouse.  "  People  are 
made  to  be  laughed  at.  There's  something  ridiculous  in 
everyone  if  you  only  look  for  it.  Your  daughter  seems 
ridiculous  to  me  because  she  gives  herself  goody-goody 
airs,  which  nobody  has  nowadays ;  she  looks  as  if  she 
were  always  doing  penance  for  your  ill-gotten  riches." 

This  shaft  hit  the  gold  of  fact  so  neatly  in  the  eye  that 
William  Massarene  colored  angrily  under  his  dull  skin. 
But  his  rage  was  against  his  daughter  rather  than  against 
his  tormentor.  Why  could  not  Katherine  look  and  act 
like  other  young  women  of  her  time  ? 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Mouse,  answering  his  unspoken 
reflections.  "It  must  be  very  annoying  to  have  a  perpet- 
ual monitress  in  one's  own  daughter,  and  of  course  you 
couldn't  make  your  millions  with  clean  hands  ;  nobody 
can ;  but  society  gives  you  lots  of  soap  and  water  after 
you've  made  them,  so  what  does  it  matter?  Besides,  a 
daughter  shouldn't  look  as  if  she  were  always  saying, 
4  Out,  damned  spot,'  as  Ellen  Terry  does.  However,  that 
is  just  the  kind  of  thing  that  will  please  Ronald.  He 
will  think  it  such  an  admirable  spirit  in  her  to  despise 
your  ill-gotten  gold." 

"  Perhaps  he  would  not  require  a  dowry  of  dirty 
money  with  her,  then?"  said  Mr.  Massarene,  allowing  for 
one  instant  the  natural  sarcastic  shrewdness  in  him  to 
escape. 

Mouse  was  for  the  moment  discomfited ;  she  had  never 


THE  MASSARENES.  195 

seen  this  unpleasant  side  of  him  before.  Then,  with  her 
most  insolent  audacity,  she  blew  some  cigarette-smoke 
over  to  where  he  sat. 

"  My  dear  Billy,  perhaps  Ronald  would  dispense  with  a 
dowry  if  he  liked  her  well  enough ;  he  is  fool  enough  for 
anything.  But  you  wouldn't  save  a  penny  by  that — I 
should  take  it  all  over  as  commission  !  " 

Mr.  Massarene  was  dumb  from  astonishment.  He  had 
known  many  sharp  dealers  in  the  Far  West,  but  nobody 
who  had  ever  for  coolness  equalled  his  fair  friend  and 
patroness. 

He  slapped  his  hand  on  his  knee  with  vulgar  effusion  in 
his  mingled  feelings  of  amazement  and  admiration. 

"  Well,  my  lady,  damn  me  if  there's  many  boys  iu 
Bowery  who  could  afford  to  give  points  to  you  !  " 

She  laughed.  Of  course  it  was  only  a  joke ;  but  the 
joke  made  her  feel  for  the  moment  a  little  insecure  and 
uncomfortable,  as  you  might  feel  if  you  found  a  packet 
of  dynamite  in  your  sandwich-case. 

"  Of  course  the  marriage  would  be  a  very  good  thing 
for  Ronald,"  said  his  sorceress,  with  her  frankest  accents 
— her  frankness  was  one  of  her  chief  weapons — "but  it 
would  be  good  for  you  too,  Billy.  It  would  place  you. 
There  are  people  who  jib  at  you  still,  you  know ;  when 
once  you  were  one  of  us,  they  wouldn't  dare." 

Mr.  Massarene  was  silent.  He  thought  if  there  were 
still  people  who  jibbed  at  him,  he  had  paid  very  dearly 
for  the  patronage  of  this  fair  sponsor.  He  was  beginning 
to  feel  his  feet  a  little  on  his  new  ground  and  to  be  a 
little  less  easily  led  about ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  was 
as  much  in  love  as  a  cold-blooded,  circumspect,  puritan- 
minded  man  could  be,  and  she  dazzled  his  sight  and  his 
senses  and  led  him  whither  she  would.  He  made  a  faint 
endeavor  to  assert  his  independence. 

"Lord  Hurstmanceaux  has  never  even  condescended 
to  know  me.  It  seems  odd  he  should  be  anxious  to  enter 
iny  family." 

"  Enter  your  family  !  "  echoed  Mouse,  with  a  laugh  of 
derision  which  brought  the  blood  into  his  puffy  pale 
cheeks.  "  Oh,  my  good  Billy,  don't  try  on  those  gran- 
diose phrases  !  I  never  said  he  wanted  anything  of  the 


196  THE  HASSARENES. 

kind;  I  said  I  mean  you  to  give  him  your  daughter,  and 
you  know  when  I  mean  a  thing  I  have  it  done." 

Mr.  Massarene  was  cowed ;  he  felt  an  awkward,  igno- 
rant, vulgar  booby  under  the  flashing  fires  of  her  con- 
temptuous eyes.  There  was  nothing  left  in  him  of  the 
stolid  self-assurance  and  self-admiration  with  which  he 
had  spoken  at  the  public  meeting  a  few  days  eaiiieiv 
Before  the  mocking  presence  of  his  enchantress  he  felt: 
only  a  stupid,  illiterate,  helpless  booby  and  boor.  He 
felt  that  men  respected  his  riches;  he  felt  that  Mouse 
Kenilworth  only  meant  to  annex  them. 

"  My  daughter  is  not  an  easy  person  to  control,"  he  said 
with  hesitation,  "  and  I  think  she  and  you  don't  hit  it  off, 
my  lady,  do  you?" 

"  No,"  said  his  guest  shortly ;  "  but  that  don't  matter. 
There's  no  law  that  I  know  of  to  love  one's  brother's  wife. 
Anyhow,  that's  what  I  mean  you  to  do  with  her.  Of 
course,  my  brother  is  a  poor  man,  you  know  that ;  but 
that  is  no  consequence  to  you.  What  you  want  is  an  as- 
sured position,  and  alliance  with  us  will  poser  you.  Ron- 
nie's word  has  great  weight  in  society." 

"But  Lord  Hurstmanceaux  have  never  given  me  even 
good  day,  not  even  when  he's  seen  me  in  your  own  house, 
my  lady." 

" Don't  say  'my  lady.'  Can't  you  break  yourself  of  it? 
Of  course,  he'll  have  to  speak  to  you  if  he  marries  your 
daughter.  I  must  get  you  all  asked  to  some  country  house 
where  he  goes ;  the  thing  will  come  of  itself,  I'll  think  it 
over  and  tell  you  where  I  send  him." 

She  spoke  as  if  she  were  telling  her  major-domo  how 
many  people  she  expected  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Massarene  naturally  concluded  that  Hurstmanceaux 
himself  was  in  the  plot.  He  did  not  dare  to  object 
further,  and  temporized  by  dropping  the  subject. 

"  But — but,"  he  said  with  a  timid  attempt  to  obtain  a 
quid  pro  quo,  "  would  you  do  one  little  thing  to  oblige  me  ; 
would  you — would  you — not  play,  not  gamble,  any  more 
in  my  houses?" 

He  was  intensely  frightened  when  he  had  said  it,  but  he 
felt  that  it  might  injure  him  with  his  coveted  constituency 


THE  MASSARENES.  197 

if  it  were  known  that  there  was  roulette,  real  roulette,  in 
his  drawing-rooms. 

Her  eyes  grew  of  a  steely  coldness,  of  an  electric  lumi- 
nance, and  seemed  to  transfix  him  as  with  barbed  arrows. 
She  threw  away  the  end  of  her  cigarette  as  she  got  out  of 
her  chair  with  that  graceful  abruptness  peculiar  to  her. 
"  I  told  you  the  other  night,  Billy,  where  /  am  the  house 
is  mine.  An  Irishman  said  something  like  that  I  believe 
about  the  head  of  the  table.  Ronnie  don't  play.  He'll 
do  the  policeman  for  you  when  he  marries  your  daughter. 
Meanwhile,  just  let  me  alone,  my  good  man,  or  you'll  be 
sorry." 

Wherewith  she  carried  her  elegant  person  and  her  trail- 
ing black  laces  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  where  Fabian 
Delkass,  the  fashionable  salon-singer,  was  tuning  his  great 
Spanish  guitar  and  softly  warbling  fragments  of  Lassen. 

Mouse  knew  nothing  about  music  and  cared  as  little, 
but  ditties  softly  warbled  by  a  very  good-looking  tenor 
have  attractions  outside  the  science  of  melody ;  she  could 
appreciate  the  talent  of  Delkass,  because  he  never  sung  a 
note  under  twenty  guineas  each  warble.  She  had  sent 
him  down  to  Vale  Royal,  she  had  arranged  that  he  should 
receive  ten  times  as  much  there  as  his  usual  terms  for  such 
country  house  engagements ;  in  return  Delkass,  who  was 
beau  gar<;on  and  very  courteous  to  pretty  women,  would  be 
sure  to  sing  something  charming  at  her  own  afternoons  in 
London  for  nothing  at  all. 

She  despised  artists  as  a  mere  flock  of  sheep  ;  silly  edible 
obscure  creatures ;  but  as  she  ate  a  mutton  cutlet  for 
luncheon  when  it  was  very  well  cooked,  so  she  nibbled  at 
an  artist  now  and  then,  when  he  was  very  much  the 
fashion. 

If  she  were  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  these  expedients 
it  was  not  her  fault;  it  was  the  fault  of  her  father-in-law, 
who  was  so  miserably  stingy,  and  of  her  settlements  which 
were  so  miserable,  and  of  society  which  compels  anybody 
who  is  in  it  to  live  in  a  certain  way.  Why  did  Providence 
(a  vague  personage  in  whom  she  as  vaguely  believed)  put 
you  where  you  were  obliged  every  day  to  do  quantities  of 
things  which  cost  money  unless  that  arbiter  of  fate  sup- 
plied you  with  the  necessary  means  ? 


198  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THERE  was  an  old  friend  of  his  mother  to  whom  Hurst- 
manceaux  was  much  attached,  a  Mrs.  Raby  of  Bedlowes, 
with  whom  he  invariably  spent  a  few  days  at  Whitsuntide. 
Bedlowes  was  a  romantic  and  historic  old  manor  in  Hamp- 
shire, famous  for  its  gigantic  yew-trees,  and  a  bowling- 
green  on  which  Charles  the  First  had  played.  To  this 
elderly  lady  Mouse  frankly  unfolded  her  budget  of  matri- 
monial projects  ;  and  Mrs.  Raby,  who  shared  the  preju- 
dices of  Hurstmanceaux  against  novi  homines,  but  was 
persuaded  to  conquer  them  for  the  general  good,  con- 
sented to  allow  the  Massarenes  to  be  presented  to  her  at  a 
Marlborough  House  party,  and  graciously  invited  them  to 
go  to  her  for  a  couple  of  days  in  Whitsun  week.  When 
the  time  came  Mr.  Massarene,  who  was  told  nothing,  but 
surmised  that  this  was  the  place  at  which  the  meeting 
with  Hurstmanceaux  was  arranged,  took  his  daughter 
down  to  this  historic  and  romantic  old  house ;  it  had  be- 
longed to  John  of  Gaunt,  and  had  sheltered  in  the  cen- 
turies of  its  existence  many  noble  and  unfortunate  per- 
sonages, the  traditions  of  whose  sojourn  did  not  agree 
with  the  visit  of  "  Blasted  Blizzard  "  to  its  stately  guest- 
chambers  and  its  tapestried  halls. 

Mrs.  Raby  was  a  person  genial,  kind-hearted,  and  of 
great  simplicity  of  manner  and  taste,  who  pleased  Kath- 
erine  and  did  not  alarm  her  father ;  indeed  he  thought, 
irreverentially,  to  himself,  "  Blast  me  if  she  don't  look  like 
an  old  New  England  Shaker  sempstress,"  for  the  chatelaine 
of  Bedlowes  wore  her  own  grey  hair  in  the  fashion  of  the 
year  '40,  had  plain  black  gowns  made  by  her  women,  and 
a  very  simple  and  homely  manner.  There  was  a  large 
party  assembled,  of  notable  and  interesting  people, 
amongst  whom  William  Massarene  was  as  a  false  note  in 
a  Beethoven  rendering.  But  society,  even  the  best  so* 
ciety,  has  grown  used  to  such  false  notes,  and  does  not 
mind  them.  There  is  the  ring  of  gold  in  the  discord. 


THE  MA88AEENE8.  199 

Daddy  Gwyllian,  who  was  there — as  where  was  he  not? 
— said  to  his  hostess,  who  was  his  cousin,  as  were  ninety- 
nine  out  of  every  hundred  persons  : 

"  Why,  bless  us  and  save  us,  my  dear  Adela,  have  you 
been  brought  to  recognize  the  new  man  from  North  Da- 
kota? I  thought  you  were  the  last  Tory  stronghold  still 
left  standing  in  the  country?  Do  you  mean  you  have 
capitulated  to  Harrenden  House?" 

Mrs.  Raby's  sweet  temper  was  a  little  ruffled. 

"The  man  is  a  sound  Tory,"  she  said  pettishly.  "If 
I  have  him  here  I  have  a  very  good  reason  for  doing  so." 

Daddy  drew  back  a  step  and  stared  at  her  in  mock 
amazement. 

"  Everybody  who  has  him  anywhere  has  a  very  good 
reason  for  doing  so.  But  do  you  mean  to  say,  Adela,  that 
you  want  to  get  on  a  Company,  or  sell  a  spavined  racer,  or 
weed  your  gallery  of  dubious  Holbeins  or  spurious  Rom- 
neys  at  a  profit,  or  get  useful  hints  as  to  Canadian  or 
Pacific  booms?  " 

Mrs.  Raby  laughed. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  do  any  of  those  things.  I  want 
Ronald  to  have  a  chance  to  admire  his  daughter." 

Daddy  laughed  his  inward  chuckling  laughter;  and  in- 
dulged in  a  prolonged  whistle. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Adela,  you  won't  want  a  commission 
for  bringing  the  match  about  as  most  of  'em  would  do. 
But  I  think  I  know  who'd  get  a  pretty  high  one  if  it  ever 
come  off.  Lady  Kenny  set  you  on,  of  course  ?  " 

His  hostess,  who  did  not  like  the  phrase  "  set  on  "  as 
applied  to  herself,  replied  stiffly : 

"It  would  be  a  good  thing  in  many  ways.  She  is 
charming.  She  could  not  look  more  thoroughbred  if  she 
were  an  archduchess,  and  you  know  he  is  very  poor 
despite  all  his  self-denial.  I  would  not  for  worlds,"  she 
continued  with  warmth,  "  be  privy  to  any  marriage  in 
which  either  the  man  or  the  woman  were  sacrificed  fgr 
mere  money.  But  if  they  should  like  each  other  there 
could  be  no  harm  done  but  a  great  deal  of  good ;  and  you 
know  that  any  woman  who  marries  Ronnie  will  have  a 
heart  of  gold  in  her  keeping." 

Daddy  nodded. 


200  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Ronnie's  all  right.  But  he's  a  horse  you  may  lead  to 
the  water  ;  he  aren't  a  horse  you  can  make  drink.  When 
is  he  coming  ?  " 

"  To-night.  You  know  he  is  the  most  punctual  and 
faithful  of  persons.  He  has  spent  the  Whitsun  week 
with  me  ever  since  his  first  year  at  Eton." 

Daddy  chuckled.  "  Lord,  it  will  be  a  rare  sight  when 
he  finds  out  what  you've  let  him  in  for !  His  sister  has 
been  hammering  at  him  for  two  years  to  make  him  know 
those  people." 

" c  It  is  well  to  begin  with  a  little  aversion/  "  quoted 
Mrs.  Raby.  "  Don't  say  anything  to  him,  pray ;  you  would 
spoil  it  all." 

"  I  never  say  anything  indiscreet,"  replied  Daddy,  with 
truth.  "  But  he'll  twig  it  for  himself  in  a  jiffy ;  Ronnie's 
real  sharp." 

"  What  odious  vulgarisms  !  "  said  Mrs.  Raby.  "  You 
grow  very  vulgar,  Daddy." 

"  Must  keep  pace  with  the  times,"  replied  Daddy ; 
"  secret  of  keeping  young,  as  Bulwer  says  somewhere. 
It's  kind  of  you  to  give  me  this  little  bit  of  comedy. 
Why  on  earth  do  people  go  to  nasty  draughty  theatres 
and  get  cricks  in  their  neck  when  they  have  society  all 
around  'em  to  make  'em  laugh?" 

It  was  the  tea-hour  on  the  following  day  when  Hurst- 
manceaux  arrived.  Everyone  was  in  the  library,  a  long, 
fine  room  worthy  of  the  volumes  it  enshrined,  of  which 
many  were  rare  arid  all  well-chosen.  Daddy,  comfortably 
ensconced  in  a  corner,  with  a  cup  in  his  hand  and  some 
hot  buttered  scone  at  his  elbow,  waited  for  the  coming 
scene.  The  library  was  dimly  lighted  by  the  descending 
sun,  which  itself  was  dim.  He  saw  that  Hurstmanceaux 
did  not  on  his  entry  perceive  the  Massarenes,  and  stood 
by  Mrs.  Raby's  chair  for  some  minutes  talking  with  her 
and  greeting  old  friends  ;  but  he  also  saw,  which  sur- 
prised him,  that  Katherine  Massarene,  who  was  at  some 
distance  from  that  table  and  seated  at  another,  changed 
countenance  visibly  and  rose  as  if  to  leave  the  room,  then 
sat  down  again  with  a  pained  and  startled  expression  en 
her  face. 

"  She  aren't  in  the  game,"  thought  Daddy.     "  But  why 


TH£  MASSAKENES.  201 

the  deuce  does  she  look  like  that  because  he's  come  into 
the  room  ?  " 

Mr.  Massarene  drew  near  his  daughter  and  whispered 
to  her :  "  That  man  just  come  in  is  Hurstmanceaux  ;  Mrs. 
Raby'll  bring  him  up  to  us.  Be  civil." 

Daddy  was  too  far  off  to  hear  the  words,  but  he  guessed 
what  they  were  ;  he  saw  that  Katherine  looked  distressed, 
annoyed,  perplexed,  and  began  hurriedly  to  talk  with  the 
people  round  her.  "  She  knows  what  they're  after,  and 
she  don't  like  it,"  thought  Daddy.  He  could  not  tell  that 
in  her  ears  and  in  her  memory  were  resounding  the  scorn- 
ful sentences,  the  withering  sarcasms,  which  had  been 
spoken  to  her  in  the  walk  over  the  frozen  fields  to  Great 
Thorpe. 

After  a  time,  while  Daddy  watched  them  from  his  snug 
corner,  Mrs.  Raby  rose  and  put  her  hand  on  Hurstman- 
ceaux's  arm. 

"  Let  me  present  you  to  some  friends  of  Clare's  whom 
I  think  you  don't  know  as  yet,"  she  murmured  softly ; 
and  ere  he  could  be  aware  of  what  was  being  done  with 
him,  he  was  led  off  to  Katherine  and  her  father. 

Daddy  watched  the  arrival  of  the  unsuspecting  chief 
actor  with  that  lively  interest  which  he  always  felt  in  his 
own  amusement.  He  had  no  kind  of  sympathy  with 
such  prejudices  as  Ronald's;  he  would  himself  have  dined 
with  a  sweep  if  the  sweep  could  have  given  him  some- 
thing unusually  good  to  eat;  but  he  liked  prejudices  in 
others  as  an  element  of  human  comedy  which  frequently 
produced  the  most  diverting  situations. 

"  He's  the  toughest  fellow  in  creation,"  he  thought. 
"  They'll  no  more  change  him  than  they'll  make  an  iron- 
clad into  a  lady's  slipper." 

Ronald,  although  the  most  easy-going  and  unconven- 
tional of  men  in  intimacy,  had  the  coldness  and  the  stiff- 
ness of  the  English  man  of  rank  when  he  was  annoyed 
or  felt  himself  outwitted.  He  was  perfectly  correct  in 
his  manner,  but  that  manner  was  glacial  as  he  realized 
the  trap  which  had  been  laid  in  his  path;  he  looked 
eight  feet  in  height  as  he  bent  his  head  in  recognition  of 
Katherine  Massarene  and  her  father. 

She   was  as   cold  as  himself,  and  Mr.  Massarene  was 


202  THE  MASSARENES. 

divided  between  a  feeling  of  great  embarrassment  and  a 
desire  to  propitiate  a  person  whom  he  saw  was  not  easy 
to  win  over  by  any  means.  In  his  difficulty  he  said  the 
worst  thing  he  could  have  said  : 

"  I  hope,  Lord  Hurstmanceaux,"  he  stammered,  pro- 
nouncing correctly  the  name  as  society  pronounced  it, 
Hurceaux — "  I  venture  to  hope  we  shall  be  friends  ;  your 
sister,  Lady  Kenil worth,  wishes  it  so  much," 

"  My  sister's  friends  are  seldom  mine,"  replied  Ronald 
with  extreme  incivility ;  then,  fearing  he  might  be  thought 
to  imply — as  he  did — something  to  her  prejudice,  added 
in  icy  accents,  "  I  mean  that  her  set  is  not  mine." 

"  Indeed  !  Is  that  so,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Massarene,  sur- 
prised ;  for  the  mystery  of  "  Sets  "  was  still  unmastered 
by  him,  he  only  understood  Classes.  "  The  Prince  is 
coming  to  stay  with  me  at  Vale  Royal,"  he  added ; 
"  might  I  hope  that  you  too ?  " 

"  I  am  not  in  the  Prince's  set,"  said  Hurstmanceaux 
curtly,  and  seeming  to  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Massarene  to  be- 
come ten  feet  in  height.  The  reply  was  altogether  be- 
yond him. 

"  Not  in  the  Prince's  set,"  he  thought  to  himself;  "  what 
on  earth  can  the  fellow  mean  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  go  to  Court,  my  lord  ?  "  he  said  aloud  in 
his  bewilderment. 

Ronald's  severity  relaxed  despite  himself ;  he  laughed 
outright.  Katherine  stood  by,  indignant,  ashamed,  frozen 
by  humiliation  and  anger  into  a  statue.  At  last,  in  des- 
peration, she  turned  to  her  father : 

"  Lord  Hurstmanceaux  would  hardly  care  to  come  to  us 
at  his  cousin's  place.  He  must  have  shot  there  many 
seasons.  I  think  Mrs.  Raby  is  looking  for  you.  Someone 
has  arrived." 

Mr.  Massarene  hurried  toward  his  hostess  and  her  tea- 
table  ;  with  a  chilly  inclination  of  the  head  his  daughter 
followed  him,  and  left  Hurstmanceaux  to  his  own  reflec- 
tions. 

The  foremost  of  these  was,  that  it  was  a  pity  so  thor- 
oughbred-looking a  woman  has  such  an  unutterable  brute 
for  a  sire.  The  second  was  that  he  had  been  guilty  him- 
self of  discourtesy  and  incivility  toward  a  lady  to  whom 


THE ,  MA  SSAEENES.  203 

he  already  owed  some  apology.  But  he  was  extremely 
angry  at  the  snare  which  had  been  spread  for  him  in  this 
innocent  old  house  of  Bedlowes. 

He  stayed  three  days  in  the  same  house  with  them,  be- 
cause he  had  no  decent  pretext  to  hasten  his  departure, 
but  he  avoided  all  chance  of  increased  acquaintance  as  he 
would  have  avoided  the  bubonic  plague  in  his  travels 
through  Thibet. 

"  He's  only  a  second-class  earl  and  gives  himself  such 
airs  as  that !  "  said  Mr.  Massarene,  in  great  displeasure,  to 
his  daughter  when  he  could  speak  to  her  unheard. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  second-class  earl  ?  It  is  an 
expression  unknown  in  4  Burke, '  "  asked  his  daughter  in 
her  coldest  accents.  Mr.  Massarene  explained  that  he 
meant  an  earl  who  had  very  little  money,  whose  chief  es- 
tates were  in  Ireland,  and  who  was  not  a  knight  of  any 
Order  or  anything  of  that  decorative  kind. 

"  And  he  said  that  he  doesn't  even  go  to  Court,"  he 
ended  as  a  climax. 

"  He  said  nothing  of  the  kind,"  replied  Katherine.  "  He 
said  he  was  not  in  the  Prince's  set,  which  means — well, 
which  means — never  mind  what  it  means.  As  for  his 
rank,  it  is  a  very  old  creation  ;  at  least,  very  old  for 
England ;  the  Courcys  of  Faldon  go  back  to  the  Con- 
queror." 

Mr.  Massarene  looked  sharply  at  his  daughter.  "I 
thought  you  didn't  like  the  man  ?  " 

"  I  neither  like  nor  dislike  him.     I  do  not  know  him." 

Then  as  this  seemed  to  her  sensitive  conscience  some^ 
thing  approaching  to  an  untruth,  she  added:  "I  met 
Lord  Hurstmanceaux  as  I  came  to  Vale  Royal  in  the  train 
that  snowy  day,  but  that  can  scarcely  be  called  an  ac- 
quaintance. I  think  you  had  better  not  ask  him  there,  if 
you  will  allow  me  to  say  so,  for  he  seemed  much  irritated 
at  his  cousin's  sale  of  the  place  to  you." 

"The  damned  starched  puppy!  What  is  the  sale  to 
him  ?  Roxhall's  old  enough  to  know  his  own  business, 
eh?"  muttered  Mr.  Massarene,  as  he  thought  to  himself 
that  the  pet  project  of  Lady  Kenilworth  would  not  be 
easy  of  realization.  It  was  certainly  not  farther  advanced 
by  her  careful  arrangement  of  the  visit  to  Bedlowes. 


204  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Why  did  you  set  up  your  back  like  that,  Ronnie  ?  " 
said  Daddy  to  him  in  the  evening.  "  Man  is  a  beast,  but 
girl  is  good  form." 

"  I  have  not  a  word  to  say  against  her,"  replied  Hurst- 
manceaux.  "  But  as  it  is  impossible  to  know  her  without 
knowing  her  father,  I  relinquish  the  pleasure  of  doing 
so." 

"  Buckram  !  "  said  Daddy.  "  'Tisn't  worn  nowadays. 
Even  soldiers  don't  have  stocks  any  longer." 

"  It  is  not  buckram.  It  is  common  decency.  That  in- 
fernal cad  is  living  in  Gerald's  house." 

"  Well,  that  is  Gerald's  fault,  I  suppose,  for  selling  it. 
You  are  wrong,  Ronnie — quite  wrong.  Miss  Massarene 
is  well-bred  enough  to  get  her  father  accepted.  In  point 
of  fact  he  is  accepted  ;  he  goes  everywhere." 

"She  is  very  distinguished-looking.  But  I  don't  know 
what  that  has  to  do  with  it,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  in  his 
stiffest  and  Grossest  manner.  "  As  for  your  seeing  him 
anywhere,  you  won't  see  him  at  Faldon.  I  wish  Mrs. 
Raby  had  told  me  of  her  intentions ;  I  should  not  have 
come  here.  I  have  avoided  these  people  everywhere  for 
two  years." 

"People  don't  send  a  list  of  their  guests  on  approval 
except  to  Royalty.  They'd  never  fill  their  houses  if  they 
did.  Miss  Massarene  knows  your  sentiments,  don't  she  ? 
Her  back  wras  up  as  well  as  yours." 

"  Certainly  she  knows  them.  I  have  never  made  a 
secret  of  them.  Who  could  suppose  that  at  Bedlowes  of 
all  places  one  would  come  across  that  cad  ?  " 

Daddy  yawned  and  shut  his  eyes. 

"  I  think  you  know,"  he  said  drowsily,  "  that  as  your 
sister  has  run  'em  you  ought  to  back  'em.  Must  back 
one's  own  stable  !  " 

"My  sister's  stable  is  not  mine,"  replied  Hurstman- 
ceaux quickly.  "  She  runs  her  dark  uns  wholly  on  her 
own  responsibility." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Daddy.  "But  the  young 
woman's  fit  for  any  stables.  How  she  came  by  it  I  don't 
know,  but  she's  uncommonly  well-bred." 

"She  appears  so,"  said  Ronald.  "  But  she  must  dree 
her  weird.  She  can  no  more  escape  the  penalty  of  being 


THE  MASSARENES.  205 

her  father's  daughter  than  a  hangman's  daughter  can  es- 
cape hers." 

It  was  not  a  liberal  sentiment,  but  it  was  one  which 
seemed  perfectly  natural  and  just  to  the  views  which  he 
took  of  life. 

He  was  deeply  angry  with  his  sister  and  Mrs.  Raby. 
It  seemed  to  him  a  monstrously  barefaced  piece  of  in- 
trigue to  have  brought  him  and  the  Massarenes  under  the 
same  roof.  He  did  not  think  Katherine  herself  privy  to 
it;  there  had  been  surprise  and  trouble  as  well  as  embar- 
rassment in  her  eyes  when  he  had  been  led  up  to  her ;  but 
he  was  sure  that  her  father  had  been  in  the  plot. 

He  spoke  in  his  usual  tone  ;  not  loud,  but  not  very  low. 
He  had  his  back  turned  to  a  grand  piano  of  Erard's  which 
stood  in  a  recess ;  but  Daddy  Gwyllian  had  his  face 
turned  to  it,  and  he  could  see  through  his  sleepy  eyes  that 
Katherine  Massarene,  who  with  some  men  around  her  was 
at  that  moment  approaching  the  instrument,  had,  though 
at  some  distance,  heard  the  last  part  of  this  speech  re- 
garding the  hangman's  daughter.  He  was  certain  that 
she  had  done  so  by  a  flush  which  rose  over  her  face  and  a 
momentary  pause  which  she  made.  In  another  instant 
she  had  reached  the  Erard  and  seated  herself  by  it.  If 
she  had  felt  any  emotion  it  did  not  make  her  touch  less 
clear,  her  memory  less  perfect,  as  she  played  through  the 
grand  passage  of  Beethoven's  Sonata  in  E  flat. 

Daddy  did  not  hear  the  sonata ;  he  was  away  in  the 
land  of  dreams,  comfortably  hidden  behind  a  huge  Afri- 
can palm-tree,  his  placid  round  face  looking  as  innocent  as 
a  babe's  in  his  slumber ;  even  his  curiosity  could  not  keep 
him  awake  any  longer. 

Hurstmanceaux,  who  loved  and  understood  good  music, 
listened  charmed  despite  himself;  but  when  the  last 
chords  thrilled  through  the  air  he  did  not  join  the  group 
which  gathered  round  her,  but  walked  away  to  another  of 
the  drawing-rooms. 

From  the  distance  he  could  see  her  as  she  sat  at  the  pi- 
anoforte receiving  the  compliments  of  the  men  about  her; 
but  the  expression  of  her  countenance  was  proud,  cold 
and  bored.  She  had  looked  very  different  on  the  Wold- 
shire  highroad  and  in  the  market-place  of  the  little  town. 


206  THE  MASSARENES. 

He  felt  sorry  for  her  ;  there  was  something  in  her  bear- 
ing, in  her  manner,  in  her  countenance,  so  far  superior  to 
her  parentage  and  position.  She  looked  like  the  last 
scion  of  some  great  unfortunate  race  rather  than  the  heir- 
ess of  new  ill-gotten  millions. 

"  Oh  prenez  vous  ce  ton  qui  n'appartient  qu?  h  vous  f  "  he 
thought ;  and  he  acquitted  her  of  any  conspiracy  in  the 
cross-country  walk,  any  complicity  in  his  sister's  ma- 
noeuvres to  make  her  meet  him  at  Bedlowes.  She  was 
undoubtedly  a  victim  of  circumstances — a  square-cut 
ivory  peg  which  was  ill  fitted  to  the  round  gilded  hole 
into  which  it  was  forced.  He  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt 
the  sincerity  of  her  dislike  to  her  position ;  his  own  na- 
ture was  one  which  enabled  him  to  understand  the  revolt 
of  hers.  "But  she  must  dree  her  weird,"  he  thought 
again. 

44  Why  are  you  so  uncivil  to  that  charming  person  who 
renders  Beethoven  so  perfectly  ?  "  said  his  hostess  to  him 
that  evening. 

44  There  is  no  harm  in  the  charming  person,  but  there  is 
a  great  deal  in  her  antecedents,"  replied  Hurstmanceaux 
very  coldly. 

44  Oh, 4  antecedents,'  my  dear  Ronnie  !  Who  can  look  at 
them  ?  Royalty  itself  disregards  them  when — when " 

44  When  there's  money  enough !  I  am  not  bound  to  fol- 
low the  example  of  Royalty." 

"  You  did  what  was  unworthy  of  you,  my  dear  old 
friend,"  he  added.  "  Of  course  Mouse  egged  you  on  ; 
but  you  should  know  what  Mouse  is  by  this  time." 

44  Indeed  she  meant  no  harm  in  this  instance.  She 
knows  that  you  want  money." 

44 1  do  not  want  money.  I  have  not  got  very  much  at 
my  command  :  that  is  another  matter." 

"  But  the  boys  are  such  a  drag  on  you?  " 

44  Oh,  no,  they  are  fine  fellows ;  they  interest  me,  and 
they  do  very  much  what  I  tell  them." 

44  You  are  a  good  man,  Ronald,  but  you  are  obstinate 
and  prejudiced." 

"  On  a  les  defauts  de  ses  qualites.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
can  boast  any  especial  qualites,  but  I  do  know  this,  that  I 
would  be  shot  to-morrow  rather  than  shake  hands  with  a 


THE  MASSARENES.  207 

low  brute  who  comes  from  God  knows  where  with  prob- 
ably untold  crimes  upon  his  conscience." 

Mrs.  Raby  shuddered  and  gave  a  nervous  glance  to  the 
far  distance  where  Mr.  Massarene  was  playing  whist. 
She  was  a  delicate  aged  woman,  and  the  idea  of  enter- 
taining an  undetected  criminal  was  extremely  painful  to 
her. 

"  He  does  look  very  like  Cruickshank's  burglars  in 
Oliver  Twist"  she  thought,  regarding  the  round  bullet 
head  and  Camus  nose  of  her  guest  as  he  scowled  down  on 
the  cards  which  he  held ;  he  was  losing,  and  losing  to  the 
Principal  of  an  Oxford  College,  whilst  a  Cabinet  Minister 
was  his  (very  inefficient)  partner ;  but  Mr.  Massarene  did 
not  like  losing — even  at  half-crown  points  and  in  the  best 
company.  He  had  not  had  much  practice  at  whist ;  but 
he  possessed  a  mathematical  brain,  and  grasped  its  com- 
binations admirably  ;  and  he  would  have  made  his  inferior 
hand  do  the  work  of  a  good  one  if  the  Cabinet  Minister 
had  not  been  an  ass,  but  had  been  able  to  second  him. 

"  They  put  men  in  the  Government  here,"  he  thought, 
"  who  over  yonder  we  should  not  think  had  brains  enough 
to  drive  a  sweet  stuff  barrow  on  a  plank  walk." 

For  despite  the  deference  which  he  really  felt  for  the 
world  into  which  he  had  entered,  he  could  not  help  the 
shrewd  good  sense  in  him  boiling  up  sometimes  into  a 
savage  contempt.  To  his  rough  strong  temper  and  his 
unscrupulous  keenness  the  gentlemen  who  were  now  his 
companions  in  life  did  seem  very  poor  creatures. 

"  If  I  ever  get  into  the  Cabinet  I'll  show  them  the  time 
of  day,"  he  thought  very  often.  There  was  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  get  into  the  Cabinet  as  he  had  once 
got  into  the  House.  He  was  made  of  the  solid  metal,  and 
the  plebeian  respectability,  with  which  patrician  conserv- 
atism, trembling  in  its  shoes  for  its  own  existence,  is  de- 
lighted to  ally  itself;  and  knew  that  he  would  make  a  very 
good  minister  of  the  type  which  works  hard,  pleases  the 
public,  is  always  mentioned  with  praise  by  the  Press  of 
the  Party,  and  lends  itself  to  the  illustration  of  admira- 
ble public  dinner  speeches  in  praise  of  the  Constitution, 
and  of  that  constitutional  bulwark  the  Middle  Class.  He 
was  a  very  shrewd  man  and  he  had  the  golden  gift  of 


208  THE  MASSAEENES. 

silence.  He  knew  his  shortcomings  better  than  his  wife 
knew  hers,  and  so  concealed  his  ambitions  more  success- 
fully. Nobody  could  "  draw  "  him.  Men  in  the  smoking- 
room  of  his  own  or  other  houses  often  tried  after  dinner 
to  make  him  "  give  himself  away,"  but  they  never  suc- 
ceeded. He  was  never  warmed  by  wine  or  friendship 
into  indiscreet  reminiscences  or  revelations. 

Moreover  in  business  he  was  facile  princeps ;  no  one 
could  beat  him  in  the  supreme  knowledge  of  money  or 
how  to  make  it.  And  indeed  the  thorough  knowledge  of 
and  capacity  for  business  does  carry  its  own  weight  with 
it  in  an  age  in  which  the  Mercurius  of  mart  and  change  is 
chief  of  all  the  gods. 

In  society  he  was  a  heav}r,  awkward,  common-looking 
man,  who  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  his  hands,  and 
always  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  with  his  legs  very 
wide  apart.  But  in  a  clubroom,  a  committee-room,  a 
board-room,  a  bank  parlor,  anywhere  where  there  was 
question  of  the  sowing  and  reaping  of  gold,  he  was  a 
totally  different  person ;  he  was  at  his  ease,  on  his  ground, 
master  of  his  subject  and  of  his  hearers ;  his  hands  rested 
on  his  knees  with  a  firm  grip,  his  words  were  trenchant, 
convincing,  logical ;  and  on  his  pallid,  fleshy,  expression- 
less face  there  came  a  look,  very  hard,  very  unmerciful, 
very  cunning,  but  a  look  of  intelligence  and  power,  and  of 
entire  command  of  his  object.  The  mind  showed  through 
the  envelope  of  flesh. 

It  was  a  money-making  mind,  a  harsh  astute  grasping 
mind,  a  mean  ignoble  greedy  mind,  but  it  was  a  master 
mind  in  its  way,  and  as  such  impressed  itself  on  all  those 
who  encountered  it  on  its  field  of  combat.  And  the  men 
that  came  into  contact  with  him  knew  that  he  had  been  a 
day  laborer  who  had,  entirely  by  his  own  ability  and  in- 
dustry, become  the  possessor  of  a  colossal  fortune,  and  all 
men  respect  this  successful  self-help,  and  few  inquire  if 
the  self-help  had  been  made  with  clean  hands. 

He  was  what  is  called  an  essentially  worthy  man, 
and  he  was  an  essentially  modern  product  of  modern  en- 
ergies. 

He  had  no  perceivable  sins,  he  conformed  to  all  re- 
ligious observances,  he  had  always  kept  on  the  right  side 


THE  'MASSARENES.  209 

of  the  law,  he  never  made  a  jest,  and  he  never  lost  a  shill- 
ing. As  a  husband  he  was  faithful,  as  a  father  exemplary, 
as  a  Christian  devout,  and  as  a  citizen  blameless.  If 
thousands  of  people  had  cursed  him,  if  tens  of  thousands 
of  workmen  had  sweated  for  him,  if  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  cattle  had  perished  for  him,  if  gambling  hells  and  drink- 
ing shops  and  opium  dens  had  enriched  him,  if  rotten  ships 
and  starved  crews,  and  poisonous  trades  and  famished 
families  had  helped  to  make  the  splendors  of  Harrenden 
House  and  the  glories  of  Vale  Royal,  these  facts  did  not 
matter  to  either  society  or  Christianity,  and  were  mere 
personal  details  into  which  nobody  could  enter.  William 
Massarene  was  one  of  those  persons  who  are  the  pillars 
of  the  great  middle  class  and  the  sources  of  that  healthy 
plebeian  blood  from  which  a  decaying  patriciate  is  re- 
cruited. 

"  I  stand  by  all  as  upholds  property,"  he  said  one  day 
to  Lord  Greatrex,  the  great  Conservative  leader. 

"  The  Northern  Farmer  has  said  it  before  you,"  mur- 
mured that  gentleman.  "The  creed  is  sound  and  simple, 
if  not  popular." 

Massarene  dared  not  swear  in  such  a  presence,  but  he 
thought,  "Damn  popularity!" 

He  did  not  want  to  be  popular.     He  despised  the  peo- 

?le  :  which  was  very  natural,  for  he  had  come  from  them, 
le  liked  to  drive  behind  his  sleek  high-bred  carriage 
horses  and  see  the  crowd  part  in  the  Strand  or  on  the 
Embankment,  and  women  and  children  scurry  and  stumble 
to  make  way  for  his  progress ;  it  made  him  realize  the  vast 
distance  which  now  separated  himself  from  the  common 
multitude. 

He  would  have  liked,  if  it  had  been  possible,  to  knock 
down  half-a-dozen  of  the  rabble  as  a  sign  of  his  superiority. 
But  he  was  in  a  country  full  of  policemen  and  prejudices, 
and  so  he  had  to  show  his  superiority  in  another  manner. 
One  morning,  when  he  was  driving  to  a  meeting  in  the 
City  with  a  member  of  parliament,  who  was  a  noted  phi- 
lanthropist, in  his  brougham,  his  high-stepping  bays  did 
knock  down  an  old  woman,  lame  and  very  poorly  clad. 
William  Massarene  held  all  women  in  slight  esteem,  but 
old  women  were  in  his  estimate  wholly  useless  and  ob* 

U 


210  THE  MASSARENES. 

noxious ;  he  would  have  put  them  all  at  forty  years  old  in 
lethal  chambers.  When  cattle  were  past  bearing  they 
went  to  the  shambles,  eh  ? 

But,  having  a  philanthropist  beside  him,  and  two  police- 
men at  his  carriage  door,  he  busied  himself  about  this 
maimed  old  female,  had  her  put  in  a  cab,  told  his  footman 
to  go  on  the  box  with  her,  and  ordered  his  card  to  be 
given  to  the  authorities  of  the  nearest  hospital. 

"  Say  I  will  provide  for  her  for  life,"  he  said  to  his 
servant  rather  loudly. 

The  people  in  the  street  cheered  him. 

"  That's  a  real  gemman !  "  said  a  baker's  boy. 

William  Massarene  threw  the  discerning  lad  a  shill- 
ing. 

"  Dear  friend,"  said  the  religious  philanthropist  with 
emotion,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see  that  your  immense  pros- 
perity has  not  driven  out  the  warmth  of  human  sympathy 
from  your  heart." 

Massarene  was  sorely  tempted  to  put  his  tongue  in  his 
cheek,  but  as  he  saw  that  the  philanthropist's  face  was 
quite  grave  he  kept  his  own  equally  serious. 

"  You've  an  uncommon  lot  of  barebacked  poor  for  a 
Christian  country,  sir,"  he  said  in  return — a  reply  which 
somewhat  disconcerted  the  philanthropist. 


THE  *MAS8AKENE&  211 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IN  the  autumn  of  the  year  the  general  election  took 
place,  and  Southwoldshire  returned  William  Massarene, 
whilst  Limehouse  selected  a  labor  member  to  represent  its 
interests.  His  majority  was  smaller  than  the  Carlton 
agent  had  calculated  and  the  Conservative  press  prophe- 
sied, but  that  made  little  impression  on  him,  though  it 
disappointed  his  party.  A  large  portion  of  the  country- 
folks would  not  hear  of  the  newcomer,  who  had  turned  out 
the  Roxhalls.  "  He's  no  more  nor  us,  that  chap,  and  an 
uncommon  ugly  jowl  he've  got,"  said  one  old  gaffer  to  an- 
other, as  they  munched  their  noonday  snack  under  the 
hedge  which  they  had  been  cutting  down  into  the  hideous- 
ness  demanded  by  high  farming,  or  behind  which  they  had 
been  drenching  the  mosses  and  lichens  of  old  apple-trees 
with  a  solution  of  lime  and  sublimate  of  iron,  as  scientific 
experts  advise. 

He  took  with  the  yokels  to  a  certain  extent,  as  the 
marquis  had  said,  but  not  in  those  districts  where  the 
Roxhalls  were  beloved,  and  where  the  laborers  liked  a 
gentleman  and  knew  one  when  they  saw  him.  Moreover, 
the  clergy  of  the  county  backed  him  to  a  man,  and  that 
lost  him  many  votes  from  the  rustic  population.  "  Passon 
knows  which  side  his  bread  be  buttered,"  said  the  old 
gaffers ;  and  even  the  influence  of  Lady  Kenil worth  and 
other  Primrose  Dames,  who  came  down  to  canvass  for 
him,  and  who  did  not  scruple  to  plead  and  to  promise 
everything  possible  and  impossible,  could  turn  them  to  the 
side  espoused  by  the  Established  Church. 

"  My  cousin  Roxhall  begs  you  to  plump  for  his  friend," 
she  assured  them ;  but  the  gaffers  smelt  the  lie,  and  were 
not  to  be  caught  by  chaff.  They  were  corrupted  by 
political  bunkum,  weakened  in  their  marrow  by  a  tawdry 
and  trumpery  civilization,  bewildered  by  the  multitude  of 
their  teachers  and  flatterers,  but  they  were  still  the 
descendants  in  direct  line  of  the  bowmen  of  Cressy  and 


212  THE  MASSARENES. 

the  king's  troopers  of  Naseby,  and  they  knew  good  blood 
when  they  saw  it,  and  did  not  like  the  look  of  the  gold 
man  from  Ameriky. 

However,  by  the  aid  of  that  man  in  the  moon,  whose 
occult  and  untraceable  influence  determines  all  political 
elections  all  the  world  over,  these  loyal  and  sturdy  rustics 
were  put  in  the  minority,  and  the  clergy  and  the  county 
people  crowded  them  out  at  the  polls. 

"  Lord  save  us  !  How  they  dawdle  over  matters  here  !  " 
thought  the  successful  candidate.  "In  Dakota  Td  just 
have  run  in  thirty  thousand  miners,  and  the  trick'd  been 
done."  He  almost,  for  an  instant,  regretted  that  he  had 
forsaken  the  congenial  country  of  mug-wamps  and  roar- 
backs,  where  the  ten-dollar  bill  could  satisfactorily  circu- 
late and  settle  everything,  as  the  power  of  the  purse  should 
do.  He  was  with  difficulty  restrained  from  exercising 
those  feudal  rights  which  he  conceived  were  his  through 
the  possession  of  Vale  Royal,  and  giving  notice  to  quit  to 
everybody  on  his  estate  who  had  voted  against  him. 

"  If  my  hands  had  voted  against  me  in  the  States,"  he 
said,  with  his  blackest  frown,  "  they'd  hev  known  a  hot- 
ter hole  than  hell." 

"  Yes,  Billy,  but  we  are  not  in  the  States,"  said  his  fail- 
guide,  philosopher  and  friend,  "  and  there  are  &few  people 
here  who  can't  be  bought,  and  mustn't  be  bullied." 

"  One  don't  meet  that  sort  in  society,  nor  see  'em  in 
church,"  he  growled  under  his  breath. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't,"  she  replied,  not  well  pleased. 
"  But  they  are  not  a  quantite  negligeable.  I  mean,  you 
mustn't  set  their  backs  up  and  their  tongues  wagging.  I 
don't  know  what  the  Carlton  wouldn't  do  to  you  if  you 
turned  out  the  lowest  Tommy  Trot  of  them  all  from 
one  of  your  cottages,  because  he  voted  against  you.  On 
the  contrar}^  it  is  to  that  particular  Tommy  Trot  who 
voted  against  you  that  you  must  send  coals  and  blankets 
at  Christmas,  and  port  wine  and  beef  tea  when  he  gets 
fever." 

He  muttered  that  he  couldn't  do  more  than  that  for  the 
Tommy  Trots  who  had  voted  for  him. 

"  Of  course  you  can't,"  she  answered.  "  And  for  them 
you  may  do  less." 


TEE' MASS ARENES.  213 

William  Massarene  pondered  silently  on  this  reply,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  political  life  in  England 
was  much  less  corrupt  than  in  the  States — as  they  all  said 
— it  was  certainly,  also,  much  more  complicated.  On  the 
whole,  he  had  preferred  Limehouse  to  Southwoldshire ; 
the  London  mechanics  had  understood  him  with  a  wink, 
and  their  stomachs  had  not  "  riz  "  at  bribery  direct  or  in- 
direct. 

"  My  vote's  my  own,  ain't  it  ?  "  one  rivet  maker  there 
had  said  to  him.  "  Well,  I  can  do  what  I  like  with  my 
own,  can't  I?  I  can  wallup  my  old  'ooman,  and  my  brats, 
and  my  dawg,  and  I  can  sell  my  vote,  that's  flat.  Yah ! 
— hand  the  blunt  over,  old  un." 

That  was  a  practical  politician,  with  whom  he  had 
rejoiced  to  make  a  deal.  But  these  rural  electors,  who 
turned  him  out  of  their  hovels,  and  chalked  up  on  their 
walls  "  Roxhalls  for  us  ;  not  no  Yankees,"  were  so  abhor- 
rent to  his  feelings  as  a  county  magnate  and  a  future  peer 
that  he  would  have  seen  them  all  dead  of  fen  fever  with 
pleasure,  and  would  not  have  sent  them  a  single  drop  of 
port  wine,  however  much  Lady  Kenny  and  the  Carlton 
had  counseled  it.  But  she  and  the  Carlton  between  them 
contrived  to  restrain  him  from  any  public  or  compromis- 
ing expression  of  his  feelings,  and  although  there  was 
some  talk  of  a  petition  against  his  return  being  made,  it 
never  went  farther  than  words,  and  when  the  new  Parlia- 
ment assembled,  William  Massarene  represented  in  it  one 
of  the  most  aristocratic  counties  in  England,  which  had 
been  represented  by  some  Roxhall's  nominee  ever  since 
George  the  Third  had  ascended  the  throne. 

"  One  of  the  infamous  results  of  that  inexcusable 
sale,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  in  the  smoking-room  of  the 
Marlborough. 

The  remark  was  reported  to  a  lady  who  did  not  love 
Roxhall,  and  who  caused  it  to  be  reported  in  turn  to  him 
at  the  French  watering-place  where  he  was  curing  his  body 
and  fretting  his  soul. 

"  Ronnie  might  guess  who  was  under  the  sale,"  he 
thought,  "  who  had  the  gilt  off  the  gingerbread."  His 
cousin  Mouse  had  always  done  what  she  chose  with  him. 
Their  families  knew  it,  his  wife  knew  it,  his  county  knew 


214  THE  HASSARENES. 

it.  He  was  in  other  ways  a  clever  and  high  spirited  man, 
but  she  made  him  a  fool,  a  coward,  a  tool,  a  laughing- 
stock. It  seemed  to  him  that  Ronnie  might  know  that 
and  excuse  him. 

"  Well,  Billy,  how  do  you  get  on  in  the  House  ?  "  asked 
Lady  Kenil worth  one  evening  after  Whitsuntide  when  she 
had  been  dining  with  him. 

Mr.  Massarene  did  not  immediately  reply.  "  Billy  " 
was  always  a  very  hard  morsel  for  him  to  swallow. 

"I  hear  they're  very  pleased  with  you,"  she  added 
graciously. 

"  Indeed,  my  lady  ?  " 

"  Don't  say  4  my  lady.'  Surely  you  might  have  left  that 
off  by  this  time.  Yes,  you  get  on  there  they  say.  It  is 
very  difficult  you  know." 

She  was  not  pleased  that  he  had  become  politically 
successful ;  she  knew  that  it  would  make  him  more  inde- 
pendent of  her,  and  that  he  would  now  find  many  to 
i%  show  him  the  way  "  with  whom  Cocky  could  not  com- 
pete. She  was  driven  to  rely  for  her  influence  on  his  ad- 
miration of  her,  which  bored  her  to  extinction  but  which 
was  a  fulcrum  she  could  not  neglect.  Then  there  was 
that  odious  cat,  as  she  called  his  daughter,  though  Kath- 
erine  Massarene  had  very  little  that  was  feline  in  her. 
The  presence  of  Katherine  Massarene  was  as  unpleasant  to 
her  as  the  presence  in  a  card-room  of  a  very  calm  and  in- 
telligent player,  who  is  not  playing  but  looking  on  with  an 
eyeglass  in  his  eye,  is  to  the  man  who  is  cheating  at  bac'. 

"  Why  couldn't  that  young  woman  stay  in  India  and 
marry  one  of  Framlingham's  household?"  she  thought 
with  great  irritation,  and  William  Massarene  himself  be- 
gan to  think  the  same  ;  his  daughter  frequently  made  him 
feel  uncomfortable  when  her  glance  dwelt  on  him  where 
he  sat  beside  Lady  Kenilworth  at  a  race  or  a  ball  or  an 
opera ;  he  felt  like  a  boy  detected  in  trying  to  climb  a 
pear-tree. 

"  Damn  it  all,  if  I  ever  get  the  pears,  I've  paid  precious 
high  for  'em,"  he  thought;  all  the  same  his  daughter's 
calm,  contemplative,  contemptuous  glance  made  him  feel 
that  at  his  age  he  had  no  business  to  be  tempted  by  such 
sweet  forbidden  fruit. 


THE  MASSARENES.  215 

"What  do  you  watch  me  for  so?  "  he  said  savagely  one 
day.  "  I  was  not  aware  that  I  did,"  she  replied,  and  was 
quite  truthful  in  the  reply. 

"You  are  terrible  unfilial,  my  dear!"  cried  Mrs.  Mas- 
sarene.  "  What  tens  of  thousands  there  is  as  would  give 
their  souls  to  be  in  your  shoes." 

"Possibly,"  said  Katherine  with  fatigue.  The  opinions 
she  had  expressed  to  Lord  Framlingham  in  India  were 
still  hers,  unaltered,  indeed  strengthened,  by  all  which  she 
had  seen  in  English  society  since  her  return  to  her 
parents'  house. 

She  often  thought  of  the  walk  across  the  frozen  fields 
to  Greater  Thrope,  and  when  once  or  twice  she  saw  Hurst- 
man  ceaux  when  riding,  or  at  the  opera,  she  felt  a  sense  of 
shame  burn  in  her  heart  and  warm  her  cheeks  which  it 
required  all  her  serenity  and  self-control  to  restrain  from 
outward  evidence. 

"  The  hangman's  daughter !  "  she  said  to  herself,  re- 
calling the  speech  she  had  overheard  at  Bedlowes.  "  Oh, 
how  right  he  was !  " 

When  he  saw  her  he  bowed  to  her  gravely  and  courte- 
ously, but  never  attempted  to  approach  her. 

"  My  dear  child,  if  you  rile  your  father  he  won't  leave 
you  nothing,"  said  Margaret  Massarene,  in  her  emotion 
forgetting  the  syntax  of  her  new  sphere. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Katherine ;  "  but  why  do  you  speak  of 
him  as  so  sure  to  die  before  me  ?  He  is  a  very  strong  man 
and  he  is  only  fifty-seven." 

"  My  dear,"  whispered  her  mother  in  sepulchral  tones, 
"  'tis  true  he's  a  very  strong  man,  but  the  cooking  '11  kill 
him  before  his  time,  to  say  nothing  of  other  things.  Look 
ye,  Kathleen,  a  man  works  like  a  horse  and  lives  like  an 
ox  all  the  best  of  his  years,  just  beef  and  bread  and  bacon 
and  beer,  and  them  only  taken  in  snacks,  just  to  keep  the 
body  going.  Then  all  at  once,  when  he's  made  his  pile, 
he  says,  says  he,  'Now  I'll  stuff,'  and  he  eats  liko  ten 
princes  rolled  in  one  and  drinks  in  proportion,  because 
he's  made  his  money  and  why  shouldn't  lie  spend  it?  And 
he  forgets  as  he's  a  liver,  and  he  forgets  as  he  ain't  as 
young  as  he  used  to  be,  and  he  forgets  as  the  fatted  hog 
would  die  of  fat  if  the  butcher  didn't  stick  him  first," 


216  THE  MASSARENES. 

With  which  homely  illustration  she  sighed  heavily  arid 
patted  her  smart  gown  in  a  melancholy  reverie. 

"I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  her  daughter.  "But 
if  my  father  were  temperate  by  force  of  will  so  very  long, 
is  it  not  strange  that  temperance  should  not  have  become 
his  habit,  too  strong  a  habit  to  be  ever  broken  ?  " 

Her  mother  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  suppose,  my  dear,  you've  watched  pigs  in  the 
styes  and  out ;  I  have.  They'll  put  up  with  bran  when 
they  must,  but  lord,  if  they  get  out  amongst  the  clams  and 
the  yams,  twist  their  tails  as  you  will  they'll  ne'er  leave 
off.  When  a  man's  made  his  pile  he's  just  like  a  pig  in  a 
sweet  potato  patch." 

With  which  apologue  she  sighed  again  and  rose  to  go 
and  dress  for  her  daily  drive  behind  those  immensely  tall 
and  always-prancing  horses,  who  always  seemed  to  her  as 
the  winged  beasts  of  the  Apocalypse. 

"And  as  for  temperance,"  she  said  as  she  paused  in  the 
doorway,  "  well,  my  dear,  'tisn't  temperate  as  I'd  call  any 
man  out  West.  Your  father  could  drink  deep  like  the 
rest ;  but  he  had  always  a  very  strong  head ;  a  very  strong 
head  indeed,  my  dear." 

Was  his  strong  head  being  turned  by  Lady  Kenil worth? 
his  daughtered  wondered.  Would  the  brain  which  had 
never  grown  dizzy  over  the  poisoned  drinks  and  the  de- 
lirious speculations  of  America  be  whirled  out  of  its  orbit 
by  that  which  is  the  most  intoxicating  thing  in  all  crea- 
tion— a  lovely  woman  who  is  also  a  woman  of  the  world? 
She  believed  that  Lady  Kenilworth  would  do  precisely 
what  she  pleased  with  him.  Did  not  she  and  her  roulette 
wheel  reign  in  triumph  even  in  the  arcana  of  Harrenden 
House  ?  As  far  as  a  woman  who  is  essentially  honorable, 
candid,  and  single-minded  can  follow  the  moves  and  read 
the  mind  of  one  who  is  entirely  without  those  qualities, 
she  understood  the  character  and  the  circumstances  of  her 
father's  veneris  victrix.  She  had  asked  Framlingham  what 
his  opinion  was  of  her  and  he  had  answered :  "  I  never 
say  anything  but  good  of  a  woman,  my  dear ;  but  if  I  had 
the  choice  between  seeing  one  of  my  sons  enamored  of  her, 
or  shot  by  his  own  hand,  I  should  choose  the  revolver,  as 
less  prejudicial  to  his  reputation  than  the  lady." 


THE  MASSARENES.  217 

She  was  very  sensible  that  her  position  as  the  daughter 
of  the  house  did  not  permit  her  in  any  way  to  show  her 
own  disapprobation  of  one  of  its  favored  guests.  She 
knew  also  that  nothing  she  could  have  said  or  have  done 
would  have  ever  moved  her  father  a  hair's  breadth.  She 
remained  strictly  passive  and  neutral,  but  to  all  the  ad- 
vances of  Hurstmanceaux's  sister  she  was  adamant;  and 
now  and  then  a  caustic  hint  or  phrase  escaped  her ;  usually 
when  she  saw  her  mother  treated  with  unconcealed  con- 
tempt by  the  lady  of  her  father's  idolatry. 

"I  am  going  on  to  the  Duchess  of  Parminster's  recep- 
tion; are  you?"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  one  evening,  satis- 
fied that  this  time,  at  least,  she  was  saying  the  right 
thing. 

"  Old  Par's  Zoo  ?  Not  if  I  know  it,"  said  Mouse,  in  her 
brusquest  tone,  and,  turning  her  shoulder  on  her  unfortu- 
nate interlocutor,  resumed  her  interrupted  flirtation. 

"  There  is  no  play  at  the  Parminsters,"  said  Katherine 
Massarene  in  a  tone,  low,  but  so  clear  that  Mouse  red- 
dened angrily,  and  several  persons  near  smiled  indiscreetly, 
despite  themselves. 

Mrs.  Massarene  went  crestfallen  to  her  carriage. 

If  a  duchess,  daughter,  wife,  and  mother  of  dukes,  was 
not  a  distinguished  acquaintance,  who  was?  And  if  a 
party  gathered  together  to  meet  princes  could  be  called  a 
menagerie,  where  was  salvation  to  be  found?  She  was  a 
meek  woman,  used  to  endure  bullying  with  patience,  but 
now  and  then  her  bile  would  rise,  as  she  expressed  it,  un- 
der the  insolence  of  that  lovely  lady  who  yet  exercised 
over  her  the  fascination  of  the  brilliant-coated  snake  for 
the  humble  barndoor  hen. 

She  resented,  but  she  dare  not  rebel.  She  went  to  the 
assembly  at  Parminster  House  sorely  exercised  in  her 
mind  and  vaguely  wondering  what  could  be  amiss  with  a 
courtly  crowd,  in  which  the  first  person  she  saw  was  her 
future  sovereign,  who  had  dined  there. 

"  Well,  lie  comes  because  there  are  certain  dishes  they 
do  so  remarkably  well  in  this  house,"  said  Daddy  Gwyl- 
lian,  of  whom  she  asked  for  information,  as  he  took  her  to 
have  an  ice.  "But  Lady  Kenny  wouldn't  trouble  herself 
to  show  here;  ifs  not  her  style;  it's  deadly  respectable. 


218  THE  MASSARENES. 

You  see  she's  too  young  to  bore  herself  at  present  for  the 
sake  of  a  sauce." 

Mrs.  Massarene  sighed  and  reflected  that  the  study  of 
society  was  a  service  which  required  to  be  learned  very 
young. 

Mouse  felt  herself  read  and  understood  by  Billy's 
daughter,  and  she  did  not  like  it.  When  she  dined  at 
Harrenden  House  or  made  them  give  a  ball  there,  the 
evenings  were  spoiled  to  her  by  the  sense  that  those  large, 
calm,  dark  violet  eyes  of  the  young  woman  of  the  house 
were  upon  her  and  all  her  doings. 

Who  would  ever  have  supposed  that  such  a  cockatrice's 
egg  of  irony  and  insolence  could  have  been  laid  and 
hatched  in  such  a  nest  of  respectful  subserviency  as  was 
Harrenden  House  ? 

The  air,  the  manner,  the  style,  even  the  glance  of  this 
young  woman  were  odious  to  her ;  the  idea  of  Billy's 
daughter  daring  to  be  cold  and  distant  to  herself,  and  pre- 
tending to  be  a  gentlewoman  in  her  own  right !  What 
possible  business  had  a  young  woman,  so  born,  to  arched 
insteps,  beautiful  hands,  and  a  low  melodious  voice?  The 
thing  was  preposterous !  "  Born  in  a  garret,  in  a  kitchen 
bred,"  her  natural  sphere  the  still-room  or  the  laundry, 
how  could  she  venture  to  carry  herself  with  dignity  at  a 
Drawing-room,  and  answer  patronage  with  cold  disdain  ? 

"  I  really  think,"  she  reflected,  u  that  she  must  be  a 
natural  daughter  of  Framlingham's,  whom  he  has  got  the 
Massarenes  to  adopt.  She  has  just  his  caustic  way  of  say- 
ing things,  and  it  would  account  for  her  going  to  India." 

This  fable  seemed  so  satisfactory  to  her  that  she  whis- 
pered it  to  one  or  two  persons,  who  in  turn  whispered  it 
to  two  or  three  others,  till  it  became  generally  whispered 
and  believed,  and  was  indeed  only  not  heard  by  the  per- 
sons whom  it  immediately  concerned,  and  who  alone  could 
have  disproved  it. 

"But  if  she's  old  Billy's  heiress,  it  don't  matter  a  pin 
whose  daughter  she  was?"  said  Brancepeth,  with  admira- 
ble common  sense,  the  kind  of  common  sense  which  is  a 
conspicuous  trait  of  youth  at  the  end  of  this  century. 

And  it  was  the  general  sentiment. 

This  story  came  to  the  ears  of  Hurstmanceaux. 


THE  MASSARENES.  219 

"  Who  told  you  ?  "  he  said  to  the  lady  who  prattled  it 
to  him. 

"Mouse,"  the  lady  hastened  to  say,  " It  is  because  it 
came  from  her  that  I  believed  it." 

He  went  to  his  sister. 

"  I  hear  you  are  the  originator  of  a  story  that  Miss  Mas- 
sarene is  the  daughter  of  Framlingham.  What  authority 
have  you  for  such  a  statement?" 

She  laughed  a  little. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !     I  think  so " 

"  You  think  so.     Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  it  is.     But  I  am  quite  sure  of  it." 

"  On  what  grounds  ?  " 

"  Grounds  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?     It  is  my  idea " 

"Ah !  it  is  your  idea.  And  for  such  ideas,  when  they 
are  spoken  or  written,  there  is  a  legal  phraseology  and  a 
legal  punishment." 

She  looked  at  him  startled,  but  amused. 

"What  can  you  possibly  mean?  One  can  say. anything 
one  pleases." 

"  If  it  be  not  libel.  This  is.  You  will  do  well  to  con- 
tradict the  report  you  have  set  afloat." 

"  Goodness,  Ronald  !  How  odd  you  are  !  You  won't 
even  know  these  people.  What  can  it  matter  to  you 
whether  they  are  talked  of  or  not  ?  " 

"It  matters  nothing  to  me.  But  it  matters  much  to 
me  that  you  should  invent  and  circulate  falsehoods,  and 
try  to  injure  by  them  an  entirely  blameless  person." 

"  Meaning  Katherine  Massarene  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  meaning  Miss  Massarene." 

She  laughed,  much  diverted. 

"Are  you  changing  your  mind  about  her?" 

"In  no  way.  But  she  is  a  person  who  conducts  herself 
admirably  in  a  most  difficult  and  odious  position,  and  I 
do  not  choose  to  allow  you  to  circulate  inventions  which 
may  ultimately  injure  her  extremely.  You  will  remember 
that  some  time  ago  I  made  you  retract  a  calumny ;  I  shall 
act  in  the  same  way  now  unless  you,  of  your  accord, 
can  completely  withdraw  this  tale  you  have  set  about." 

She  was  silent. 

She  remembered  how  unpleasant  he  had  been  when  she 


220  THE  MASSARENES. 

had  fabricated  a  pretty  web  of  falsehoods  concerning  one 
of  her  acquaintances,  actually  forcing  her  to  apologize  to 
all  the  people  concerned. 

"I  can't  imagine  why  you  should  care,"  she  said  sullenly. 

"  To  care  for  abstract  justice  is  quite  unintelligible  to 
you,"  he  answered.  "  It  is  to  most  people.  Will  you  re- 
tract this  lie  or  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  You  make  -a  storm  in  a  teacup.  What  will  you  do  if 
I  don't?" 

"  I  shall  tell  your  friend  Mr.  Massarene  how  you  re- 
turn his  hospitalities,  and  I  shall  make  you  confess  your 
inventions." 

"  How  horrid  you  are,  Ronald !  "  she  said,  while  her  lips 
quivered,  partly  with  fear  and  partly  with  rage.  "  You 
won't  look  at  the  young  woman,  and  yet  you  set  your 
back  up  like  this.  Oh,  of  course  I  can  tell  people  that  I 
was  only  joking.  But  it  will  be  very  disagreeable." 

"  You  should  bridle  your  tongue,"  said  Hurstmanceaux 
sternly,  surprised  himself  to  feel  with  what  extreme  irri- 
tation this  story  of  hers  had  awakened  in  him.  He  could 
not  and  would  not  know  Massarene's  heiress,  but  he  ad- 
mired her  conduct  in  society ;  he  admired  most  of  all 
what  others  condemned  in  her,  the  contemptuous  cold- 
ness and  indifference  of  her  manner,  her  brief  replies, 
sometimes  so  cutting  and  caustic,  her  avoidance  of  all 
those  whose  high  position  made  them  sought  by  her  par- 
ents, the  unwavering  coldness  with  which  she  resented  all 
court  paid  to  her. 

When  he  watched  her  in  the  world,  he  felt  inclined  to 
applaud  as  he  would  have  applauded  a  fine  innings  at 
Lord's  or  a  hard-won  race  on  the  Thames.  It  seemed  to 
him  monstrous  that  his  sister,  because  her  matrimonial 
schemes  had  failed,  should  pursue  with  slander  anyone  so 
innocent  and  so  much  to  be  praised. 

William  Massarene  was  in  no  haste  to  marry  his  daugh- 
ter. His  vanity  would  have  impelled  him  to  give  her  an 
unusual  dower  if  she  had  married,  and  he  did  not  care  to 
cut  so  huge  a  slice  out  of  his  capital.  Moreover,  his  am- 
bitions, growing  by  what  they  fed  on,  became  inordinate. 
No  alliance  seemed  to  him  great  enough. 

Besides,  he   thought  often,  the  old  woman  might  go  to 


THE  'MASSARENES.  221 

glory,  and  he  might  marry  again  and  have  sons.  To  his 
strength  of  purpose  and  vastness  of  reach  the  future — his 
future — seemed  illimitable. 

She  received  a  homage  which  nauseated,  a  flattery 
which  disgusted,  her.  She  knew  that  she  was  seen 
through  the  golden  haze  of  her  father's  reputation  for 
wealth.  "If  I  were  deaf,  or  blind,  or  crooked,"  she 
thought,  "  if  I  were  diseased,  or  imbecile,  or  mutilated, 
there  would  not  be  one  the  less  ready  to  worship  and  wed 
me  out  of  all  these  throngs  of  wooers."  And  very  often 
her  brief  words  cut  them  like  a  lash,  arid  in  her  eyes, 
which  were  the  hue  of  the  darkest  purple  of  a  pansy, 
there  came  a  flash  of  scorn  whose  cause  those  around  her 
were  too  self-complacent  to  attribute  aright. 

She  had  but  one  pleasure — that  of  bringing  together 
great  artists,  and  causing  Harrenden  House  to  be  re- 
nowned for  something  better  than  the  usual  display  and 
expenditure  of  "  new "  houses.  She  had  difficulty  in 
making  her  father  pay  the  singers  and  musicians  as  she 
wished  them  to  be  paid,  for  he  who  would  give  two 
guineas  a  bottle  for  a  rare  Comet-wine,  or  waste  many 
thousands  of  pounds  in  receiving  a  sporting  prince  at 
Vale  Royal,  grudged  their  fees  to  what  he  contemptuously 
called  "  professionals."  But  when  he  saw  how  greatly 
these  musical  entertainments  "took  on,"  and  how  much 
they  did  to  raise  the  tone  of  his  house,  he  gave  her  large 
credit  and  discretion,  and  the  reputation  for  the  weekly 
chamber-music  at  Harrenden  House  soon  attracted  to  it 
those  choicer  souls  whom  millions  and  Richemont  could 
not  alone  have  drawn  there. 

Sometimes  she  wished  she  could  invite  that  lover  of 
music  who  had  listened  to  the  sonata  in  B  flat  at  Bed- 
lowes.  She  would  sooner  have  seen  him  there  than  his 
sister,  who  showed  for  an  hour  at  these  concerts,  and  then 
took  herself  off  to  some  gayer  form  of  entertainment. 

"  It  is  intensely  classic  and  correct,  but  deadly  dull," 
said  Lady  Kenilworth,  although  she  was,  on  occasion,  a 
musical  composer  herself,  and  wrote  little  songs  which, 
with  many  corrections  and  additions  from  Delkass  and 
other  salon-singers  arid  fashionable  pianists,  passed  muster 
and  were  published  as  her  own. 


222  TEE  MASSARENER. 

Once,  to  please  her,  Massarene  hade  his  daughter  have 
one  of  these  ballads  sung  at  the  next  Harrenden  House 
concert. 

"  My  dear  father,  get  someone  else  to  manage  these 
things,"  she  answered.  "  Or  let  us  give  them  up  alto- 
gether. But  bad  amateur  music  I  will  not  have  sung  or 
played  whilst  I  am  responsible  for  the  selection." 

She  was  quite  resolute  on  the  point,  and,  as  he  did  not 
wish  concerts  which  were  so  admired  to  be  abandoned,  he 
could  not  please  his  idol  in  this  matter. 

"  She  says  your  songs  ain't  good  enow,  my  lady,"  he 
announced  grimly,  with  that  relish  in  annoying  her  which 
occasionally  overcame  his  submissiveness,  at  such  times  as 
he  remembered  the  diplomatist  and  the  Bird  rooms,  or  saw 
a  bevy  of  men  round  her  as  she  donned  her  evening  cloak. 

The  announcement  did  not  lessen  the  impatient  aver- 
sion which  she  felt  for  his  heiress. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  your  own  daughter,  Billy?"  she 
asked  very  contemptuously. 

"  I  ain't  afraid  of  nobody,"  said  Mr.  Massarene ;  and 
there  was  an  ugly  look  for  a  moment  on  his  face. 

"  What  an  odious  man  he  was  !  "  she  thought.  "  What 
a  lout,  what  a  bore,  and,  no  doubt,  what  a  bully  too  where 
he  could  be  so !  " 

Sometimes  a  gleam  of  good  sense  made  her  afraid  of 
him ;  afraid  of  all  the  obligations  which  she  was  under  to 
him ;  afraid  of  some  future  reprisal  he  might  take  for  all 
her  insolence.  But  she  was  utterly  careless  and  extremely 
imprudent,  and  she  dismissed  the  fear  as  soon  as  it  as- 
sailed her. 

"  You  don't  marry  your  daughter,  Billy,"  she  said  one 
day.  "  It  was  very  provoking  that  the  affair  with  my 
brother  went  off  as  it  did." 

"  It  was  never  on  that  I  am  aware  on,"  said  William 
Massarene  stiffly,  with  a  look  like  that  of  a  displeased 
bull  on  his  face. 

"  Well,  no,  of  course  it  wasn't.  Ronald  wouldn't  know 
you.  I'm  afraid,  my  good  Billy,  there'll  be  people  who 
won't  know  you  to  the  very  end  of  your  day." 

He  looked  more  displeased  still,  but  he  was  accustomed 
to  bear  her  insolence  patiently. 


THE  MASSABENES.  223 

"  Every  man  has  his  price,  they  say,"  he  answered  dog- 
gedly. "  Seems  as  I  haven't  hit  on  Lord  Hurstman- 
ceaux's." 

He  did  not  venture  to  say  to  her  that  he  was  delighted 
her  project  had  failed. 

"  What  funny  things  you  say,  Billy,"  cried  Mouse,  with 
a  peal  of  her  enchanting  laughter. 

He  was  charmed,  and  began  to  believe  himself  a  wit. 

"  I'm  coming  to  hear  you  to-night,"  she  added. 

He  had  been  asked  to  speak  on  the  Early  Closing  Bill ; 
the  bill  was  originally  a  Conservative  measure,  and  so  the 
Conservative  party  was  obliged  to  support  it  in  its  Radi- 
cal dress.  The  prospect  made  him  nervous,  but  he  was  a 
man  who  knew  how  to  control  his  nerves ;  and  he  had 
that  solid  sense  of  his  own  powers  which  when  it  is  allied 
to  good  sense  is  the  surest  of  all  support.  Moreover, 
Mouse  knew  exactly  how  to  flatter  whilst  she  bullied  him  ; 
to  flatter  him  enough,  to  make  him  happy,  never  enough 
to  make  herself  ridiculous,  or  her  kind  words  cheap. 

"  It's  darned  rot,"  thought  William  Massarene.  "  All 
this  here  kind  of  thing  is  socialism  in  disguise.  The  pub- 
lic is  treated  like  a  child,  and  an  idiot  child.  If  it  wants 
shops  open  late,  it'll  pay  traders  to  keep  'em  open,  and  if 
it  wants  'em  shut  early,  it  won't  pay  traders  to  keep  'em 
open.  That's  all  about  it  I  reckon.  'Tis  one  of  them 
things  that  should  be  left  to  the  public.  A  trader  don't 
want  to  sit  twiddling  his  thumbs,  and  why  in  hell's 
name  should  the  Government  force  him  to  twiddle  his 
thumbs?" 

But  this  simple  common-sense  view  of  the  case  was  not 
the  one  taken  by  the  persons  he  had  to  support,  and  so  he 
prepared  a  very  neat  speech  which  argued  the  case  from 
the  opposite  point  of  view  to  his  own. 

"  Awful  rot,"  he  thought,  as  he  jotted  down  the  heads 
of  it.  "  But  this  old  country  takes  the  cake  for  rot." 

Naturally,  he  did  not  care  a  straw  which  way  the  votes 
went ;  the  time  had  long  gone  by  when  he  had  kept  a 
shop,  and  even  the  time  when  he  had  owned  many  shops 
with  dummy  names  over  their  doors  and  dummy  proprie- 
tors returned  in  the  census;  and  whether  Islington,  and 
Notting  Hill,  and  Camden  Town,  and  Bethnal  Green 


224  THE  MASSARENES. 

burned  gas  till  midnight,  or  shut  up  at  twilight,  did  not 
matter  the  least  to  him. 

She  had  prophesied  his  success  in  the  House,  and  he 
soon  justified  her  prophecy.  He  spoke  on  questions  of 
home-legislation,  and  spoke  well,  in  short  but  telling  sen- 
tences without  nervousness,  but  with  apparent  modesty;  to 
be  sure,  there  was  the  drawback  of  his  accent,  which  was 
at  once  plebeian  and  Yankee,  but  of  this  he  was  himself 
unconscious,  and  the  time  is  passed  when  the  House  of 
Commons  exacted  either  education  or  elegance ;  it  has 
heard  so  many  dialects  and  dropped  aspirates  within  the 
last  twenty  years  that  its  ear  has  grown  deaf  to  such  of- 
fences. What  he  had  to  say  seemed  to  him,  in  its  matter, 
very  poor  trash,  but  he  said  it  well ;  and  a  sense  that  this 
stout,  uncouth,  unpleasant  person  would  be  a  tower  cf 
strength  in  their  ranks  spread  itself  downward  from  their 
chief  throughout  all  the  ranks  of  the  Conservative  party, 
and  made  them  feel  that  they  had  better  not  call  him 
Billy  too  often. 

He  was  too  sagacious  a  man  to  be  tempted  to  speak  on 
subjects  out  of  his  range  of  special  knowledge ;  on  those 
of  which  he  had  such  knowledge,  stocks,  mining,  railways, 
or  finance,  he  spoke  rarely,  but  with  admirable  practical 
astuteness ;  the  House  saw  that  he  was  an  authority  not 
to  be  despised.  In  smart  society  he  was  embarrassed  and 
ill  at  ease  and  conscious  of  his  own  deficiences ;  but  with 
men  on  public  matters,  he  was  neither  daunted  nor  dazzled. 
He  had  a  very  poor  opinion  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
whether  as  a  talking-shop  or  a  manager  of  public  business, 
and  he  felt  nothing  of  the  awe  which  is  popularly  sup- 
posed to  be  inspired  in  all  new  members  by  the  sight  of 
the  Speaker's  Mace. 

He  had  quickly  taken  the  measure  of  the  Assembly,  and 
he  was  not  afraid  of  it.  He  thought  it  a  very  poor  affair  ; 
wasting  all  its  time  in  jaw,  and  timidly  endeavoring  to 
conciliate  the  masses,  which,  to  his  knowledge,  were  best 
governed  with  a  stock-whip  and  a  six-shooter.  But  he 
was  too  shrewd  to  let  his  private  opinion  leak  out ;  and 
he  contented  himself  with  making  both  sides  of  the  House 
feel  that  a  man  had  come  amongst  them  who,  if  they  liked 
to  listen  to  them,  could  teach  them  the  time  of  day  on 


THE  MASSARENE8.  225 

all  subjects  which  concerned  practical  politics  and  the 
business  side  of  government. 

The  Irish  members  loathed  him  because  he  had  turned 
his  back  on  Ireland  instead  of  consecrating  his  millions  to 
leagues  and  dynamite.  But  on  the  rest  of  the  House  the 
impression  he  made  was  favorable.  After  all,  a  politician 
who  has  Richemont  at  the  head  of  his  kitchen,  and  gives 
you  the  great  wines  of  comet  years,  is  a  superior  compan- 
ion on  the  benches  to  the  Nonconformist  schoolmaster, 
the  hungry  barrister,  or  the  professor  full  of  crotchets, 
whom  Northern  England  or  Eastern  London  sends  to  St. 
Stephen's. 

"Really,  Billy,  you  got  on  very  well/'  said  Mouse, who 
had  come  to  the  speaker's  box  to  hear  him ;  that  little  box 
is  much  more  comfortable  than  the  Lady's  Gallery. 

"  'Twas  all  soft  sawder,"  said  Mr.  Massarene,  with  grim 
contempt. 

She  was  standing  in  the  corridor  twisting  a  lace  wrap 
round  her  head,  and  he  had  come  upstairs  after  the  di- 
vision to  receive  her  congratulations  and  take  her  orders. 

"  What  I'd  like  to  teach  'em  is  how  to  do  the  business 
of  this  'ere  House.  Why,  if  any  private  business  was  car- 
ried on  for  half  a  year  as  the  business  of  the  nation's  done 
by  these  gentlemen,  there'd  be  an  almighty  smash  such  as 
somebody'd  go  in  the  docks  for " 

"  Tell  the  House  so,"  said  Mouse,  much  diverted. 

He  puffed  out  his  cheeks,  which  was  his  equivalent  for 
a  smile. 

"  Guess,  my  lady,  'tain't  the  place  for  truth-telling." 

"  You  should  have  gone  to  the  other  side." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Not  me,  ray  lady.  What  do  the  Radicals  say  to  me  ? 
This  is  what  they  say  :  '  My  good  fellow,  you've  earned 
five  shillin's  by  sweatin'  all  day ;  hand  it  over  here,  will 
ye.  We  want  to  buy  beer  and  beefsteaks  for  Tom,  Dick, 
and  Harry,  who've  been  sittin'  loafin'  on  a  wall  over  there 
while  you  was  workin'.'  No  Radicals  for  me  if  I  know 
it." 

"You  are  very  delightful,  Billy,"  said  his  patroness, 
"  and  you  may  come  with  us  to  supper  at  the  Papillons 
Club.  I'm  dreadfully  hungry,  though  I  have  only  been 

15 


226  THE  MASSAEENES. 

4  loafin' '  behind  a  grating.  I've  made  rendezvous  there 
with  Carrie." 

He  obeyed  the  permission  of  his  enchantress ;  and 
meekly  ate  some  oysters  and  drank  some  champagne  in 
company  with  her  and  a  dozen  of  her  gayest  associates ;  it 
occurred  to  no  one  of  them  to  pay  the  bill,  and  the  head 
waiter  took  it  discreetly  to  the  master  of  Harrendcn 
House  when  no  one  else  was  looking. 

The  Papillons  was  a  new  and  very  fashionable  supper 
club,  much  resorted  to  after  the  opera,  the  theatres,  and 
parliamentary  debates. 

He  felt  that  it  was  a  place  too  full  of  gaiety,  frivolity, 
and  youth  to  be  a  meet  place  for  a  member  of  parliament 
and  a  Croesus  of  his  age  and  his  ambitions.  He  thought 
suppers  apoplectical,  champagnes,  even  brut,  very  poor 
stuff,  and  English  oysters  ridiculous ;  nevertheless,  he 
went,  and  was  rewarded  by  seeing  his  enchantress  toss 
the  liliputian  bivalves  down  her  rosy  throat  and  turn  her 
shoulder  on  him  as  she  had  done  on  his  wife. 

To  be  sure,  he  had  the  privilege  of  paying  the  bill,  a 
privilege  which  he  found  the  English  aristocracy  always 
willing  to  concede  to  him. 

"  There'll  always  be  people  too  proud  to  know  me,  will 
there?"  he  thought,  as  he  drove  homeward;  "but  I  guess 
there  11  never  be  people  too  proud  to  let  me  pay  for  'em.'1 


THE'  MASSARENE8.  227 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  giddy  months  frolicked  away  like  youths  and 
maidens  dancing  on  a  golden  ground  on  one  of  Povis  de 
Chavanne's  friezes.  Flirting,  laughing,  gaming,  waltzing, 
shooting,  hunting,  driving,  dressing — above  all  dressing — 
the  seasons  succeeded  each  other  with  breathless  rapidity 
for  Mouse  Kenilworth,  and  hundreds  of  fair  women  like 
her. 

Money  grew  scarcer,  credit  grew  rarer,  Billy  became 
less  easy  to  bleed,  Harry  seemed  to  grow  duller  and  less 
good-looking,  cabmen  became  shyer  still  of  Cocky,  and 
the  old  duke  more  unwilling  to  sign  and  sell;  but  she 
still  all  the  same  enjoyed  herself,  still  carried  high  her 
golden  head,  arid  still  crammed  forty-eight  hours  into 
every  twenty-four.  Occasionally  she  did  a  little  philan- 
thropy ;  inaugurated  a  railway  line,  visited  some  silk 
mills,  or  laid  the  stone  of  a  church.  The  silver  barrow 
she  received  made  a  pretty  flower-stand,  the  pieces  of  silk 
offered  to  her  were  also  useful  in  their  way,  and  when  she 
had  opened  a  church  she  felt  she  had  a  dispensation  for 
months  from  attending  church  services.  Only  Egypt  she 
could  not  manage  this  year.  Egypt  is  a  pastime  which  re- 
quires a  good  deal  of  ready  money,  and  she  had  to  console 
herself  with  hunting  in  the  Midlands  and  shooting  rock- 
eters in  the  damp  English  woods ;  she  did  not  really  care 
about  shooting,  but  she  found  zest  in  it  because  Ronald 
and  the  old  duke  hated  the  idea  of  women  killing  things, 
and  even  Braricepeth  disapproved  it. 

She  went  down  again  more  than  once  to  Vale  Royal 
and  went  out  with  the  hounds  to  whose  maintenance  her 
host  had  subscribed  so  liberally.  But  in  February  a  long 
black  frost  sent  hunters  to  their  straw  and  riders  up  to 
town,  and  she  opened  her  house  in  Stanhope  Street  as  the 
session  opened  at  Westminster.  She  had  the  children  up 
also  ;  partly  because  she  was  really  fond  of  them,  partly 
because  children  poser  }^ou,  and  touch  the  heart  and  the 
purse-strings  of  your  relatives, 


•228  THE  MASSARENES. 

She  disliked  the  town  in  winter ;  she  wanted  to  be  in 
Cairo  or  at  Monte  Carlo  or  Rome  ;  but,  being  in  London, 
she  made  the  best  of  it  and  took  her  graceful  person  to 
any  place  where  she  thought  she  could  be  amused.  There 
are  many  dinners  in  London  when  the  frost  binds  the 
country  in  its  iron  bonds  and  the  horses  champ  and  fret  in 
their  stalls,  and  the  herons  starve  by  the  frozen  streams, 
and  the  dead  kingfishers  lie  like  crumpled  heaps  of  broken 
iris-flowers  on  the  cruel  ice  of  their  native  ponds. 

"Has  Billy  run  dry?"  asked  her  lord  one  day  when 
their  financial  difficulties  were  pressing  more  hardly  than 
usual,  and  an  unpaid  cabman  had  threatened  Bow  Street. 

"No,"  said  Mouse  curtly.  "But  the  young  woman  is 
always  there.  She's  as  sharp  as  a  needle." 

"  Why  didn't  you  splice  her  to  Ronnie?  " 

"  He  won't  even  look  at  her." 

"  How  exactly  like  him !  "  said  Cocky.  "  If  there's  a 
thing  he  might  do  to  oblige  one  he  always  kicks  at  it." 

Hurstmanceaux  always  seemed  to  them  odiously  unfeel- 
ing and  huffy ;  nevertheless,  as  they  always  did  in  their 
troubles,  they  sent  to  him  to  come  and  speak  to  them  one 
day  when  their  creditors  had  been  more  offensive  than 
usual.  He  was  so  rarely  in  town  that  they  agreed  it  was 
only  prudent  to  take  advantage  of  his  being  there  for  a 
week  or  two  on  account  of  evidence  he  had  to  give  before 
a  House  of  Lords  Committee  on  an  Irish  land  question. 

What  Daddy  Gwyllian  had  said  once  in  the  smoking- 
room  at  Otterbourne  House,  and  had  more  than  once  since 
then  repeated,  dwelt  in  Hurstmanceaux's  memory,  and 
made  him  doubt  whether  it  was  indeed  worth  while  to  go 
on  impoverishing  himself  for  people  who  had  neither 
gratitude  nor  scruple. 

After  all,  if  the  Duke  of  Otterbourne's  eldest  son  went 
into  the  Bankruptcy  Court,  it  was  the  Duke  of  Otter- 
bourne's  affair. 

It  would  be  cruelly  hard  on  Otterbourne,  who  was  him- 
self one  of  the  most  upright,  honorable  and  conscientious 
of  gentlemen.  But  it  would  be  still  harder  on  himself, 
Hurstmanceaux,  after  his  long  self-denial  and  self-sacrifice 
to  find  himself  in  Queer  Street  for  sake  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  a  brother-in-law  whom  he  considered,  in  his  own 


THE  MASSAEENES.  229 

forcible  language,  not  fit  to  be  touched  with  a  pair  of 
tongs. 

If  they  would  only  retire  awhile  and  retrench  they 
could  pull  themselves  together.  Cocky  had  an  estate  in 
the  west  of  Ireland,  entirely  unsaleable  for  the  best  of 
reasons  that  nobody  would  buy  it,  but  which  Hurstman- 
ceaux  considered  a  very  heaven  upon  earth,  for  its  views 
of  land  and  sea  were  sublime,  and  its  myrtle  and  bay 
thickets,  its  pine  and  cork  woods,  had  almost  the  beauty 
of  Cintra  with  the  vast  billows  of  the  Atlantic  rolling  on 
the  rocky  shores  at  their  feet.  If  they  would  go  to  this 
place,  called  Black  Hazel,  and  live  there  for  a  few  years, 
their  affairs  would  come  round,  and  Mouse  would  be 
taken  out  of  that  vicious  circle  of  unending  expenditure 
and  compromising  expedient  in  which  women  of  the  world 
turn  like  squirrels  in  a  cage. 

To  the  innocence  of  this  simple  masculine  mind  it 
seemed  quite  possible  that  if  such  a  course  were  sug- 
gested to  her  she  would  follow  it.  She  was  fond  of  the 
children  ;  Black  Hazel  would  be  a  paradise  for  them  ;  she 
liked  sport — Black  Hazel  offered  quail,  woodcock,  black- 
cock, teal  in  abundance,  and  both  fresh  water  and  deep 
sea  fishing  to  any  extent. 

He  enumerated  its  attractions  enthusiastically  to  him- 
self as  if  he  were  an  auctioneer  endeavoring  to  sell  the 
estate,  and,  with  the  naivete  of  an  honest  man,  imagined 
that  after  all  his  sister  could  only  need  to  have  her  duty 
clearly  shown  her  to  do  it. 

"The  finest  thoroughbred  mare  will  chew  dry  reeds 
when  she  finds  she  can't  get  hay  or  oats,"  he  thought,  his 
mind  reverting  to  his  memories  of  the  Egyptian  campaign, 
which  he  had  shared  in  as  an  amateur.  The  brother  of 
Lady  Kenilworth  should  have  known  that  women  of  the 
world  are  more  "kittle  cattle"  than  even  blood-mares; 
but  he  did  not  realize  this. 

He  knew  that  she  was  unreasonable,  wildly  extravagant, 
very  selfish,  and  so  accustomed  to  have  her  own  way  that 
she  thought  the  stars  would  pause  in  their  courses  to  please 
her ;  but  still,  even  she  would  stop  short  of  absolute  social 
suicide,  he  thought. 

So  when  next  he  received  a  note  from  his  sister  asking 


230  THE  MASSARENE8. 

him  to  come  to  her  on  a  matter  of  importance,  which  al- 
ways with  her  meant  money,  he  took  his  way  to  the  con- 
ference determined  to  tell  her  frankly  that  the  retreat  to 
the  west  of  Ireland  was  the  only  possible  refuge  for  her, 
and  to  keep  well  in  his  memory  the  sensible  warning  and 
counsel  of  Daddy  Gwyllian. 

When  he  got  to  the  house  in  Stanhope  Street  he  found 
Cocky  waiting  to  see  him  before  he  went  out.  This  fact 
alone  was  ominous  and  extremely  disagreeable  to  him,  the 
presence  of  Cocky,  in  his  wife's  morning-room,  invariably 
indicating  not  only  that  money  was  wanted,  which  was 
chronic,  but  that  some  more  than  usually  unpleasant 
dilemma  had  to  be  met. 

Cocky 's  paper  was  all  over  the  place,  as  he  would  have 
expressed  it ;  and  very  often  in  hands  so  disreputable  that 
its  rescue  was  a  matter  as  compromising  as  it  was  costly. 

When  he  was  walking  about  amongst  the  china  and  the 
trinkets,  and  the  flowers  and  the  lacquer  work,  with  his 
thin  pale  aquiline  profile  against  the  light,  and  the  Blen- 
heims barking  furiously  at  him  as  they  invariably  did,  his 
presence  wTas  the  certain  sign  of  something  impending 
which  might  get  with  most  odious  prominence  into  the 
newspapers. 

"  If  he's  forged  anybody's  name,  I  only  hope  to  heavens 
that  it's  only  mine,"  thought  Hurstmanceaux :  he  always 
expected  Cocky  to  come  to  forgery  sooner  or  later.  In 
point  of  fact,  Cocky  had  come  to  it  very  early  in  his 
career,  as  early  as  his  Eton  days,  when  he  had  been  ducked 
in  the  river  by  the  comrade  with  whose  name  he  had  taken 
such  liberties. 

With  his  hands  in  his  trowser  pockets  and  his  little 
frail  person  flitting  amongst  the  chinoiseries  and  the  heaths 
and  orchids,  he  peered  up  at  this  moment  at  Hurstman- 
ceaux where  he  stood  on  the  hearth,  very  tall,  very  stern, 
very  unsympathetic,  and  absolutely  silent. 

"  What  a  glum  brute  he  is,"  Cocky  thought  of  the  man 
to  whom  he  had  owed  his  own  social  salvation  a  score  of 
times.  "  What  an  uncommon  nasty  thing  human  nature 
must  be  that  it  must  always  look  so  deuced  unpleasant 
whenever  it  finds  an}^body  in  trouble." 

Cocky  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  the  first  duty  of  other 


THE  MASSARENES.  231 

men  to  pick  himself  out  of  the  mud  whenever  he  got  into 
it,  and  that  it  should  not  only  be  the  duty  of  his  neigh- 
bors but  their  pleasure. 

"Such  a  hard-hearted  brute  is  Ronnie,"  he  thought. 
"  Only  lives  for  himself  and  don't  spend  sixpence  a  day. 
I  do  hate  selfishness  and  stinginess." 

The  Blenheims  at  this  instant  scampered  into  the  room, 
and  flew  at  his  ankles  with  that  strong  disapproval  of  him 
which  they  never  failed  to  show. 

"  Oh  Lord,  you  little  beasts !  "  he  cried,  as  their  shrill 
voices  rent  the  air. 

Hurstmanceaux  looked  on  in  grim  approval  of  the  dogs' 
discrimination,  whilst  his  brother-in-law  wasted  kicks  in 
all  directions,  the  Blenheims  avoiding  them  with  the  hap- 
piest dexterity  and  returning  undaunted  to  the  charge. 

The  entrance  of  their  mistress  effected  a  diversion  in 
the  warfare  and  relaxed  the  contemptuous  sternness  of  her 
brother's  face. 

"  So  kind  of  you,  dear  Ronnie,"  she  said  sweetly  as  she 
came  up  to  him  softly  and  brought  a  sense  of  fragrance 
and  freshness,  like  a  dewy  rose,  as  she  came  straight  from 
her  bath  and  its  opponax  soap  and  eau  de  verveine. 

"  They've  torn  my  trowsers,"  said  Cocky,  looking  down 
at  the  marks  of  their  small  sharp  teeth  upon  frayed  cloth. 

"You  know  they  dislike  you,"  said  his  wife  coldly. 
"Why  do  you  provoke  them  ?" 

"  Hang  it  all,  I'm  their  master,"  murmured  Cocky, 
eyeing  his  ankles  ruefully. 

"  Oh,  dear  no,  you  are  not,"  said  Mouse  very  uncivilly ; 
" 1  never  taught  them  to  think  so  for  a  moment." 

"If  you  only  sent  for  me  to  hear  you  quarrel  over  the 

ownership  of  the  Blenheims "  said  Hurstmanceaux. 

He  was  angry ;  he  had  to  attend  a  Royal  Commission  at 
two  o'clock,  and  he  wanted  to  be  instead  on  the  river, 
watching  the  practice  of  the  Eton  eight  of  which  his 
youngest  brother  was  captain.  And  here  he  was,  shut  up 
at  half-past  twelve  with  two  bickering  people  and  two 
barking  lap-dogs,  with  the  prospect  of  hearing  for  an  hour 
of  debts  and  difficulties  which  he  had  neither  the  power 
nor  the  will  to  meet  or  dissipate.  "  Pray  let  me  hear  the 
worst  at  once,"  he  added.  "  Is  it  the  Old  Bailey,  or  only 


232  THE  MASSAEENES. 

the  Bankruptcy  Court,  that  Cocky  is  going  to  show  him- 
self in  this  time  to  an  admiring  society  ?  " 

His  sister  looked  at  him  and  saw  that  he  was  not  in  a 
pleasant  mood  ;  but  she  did  not  mind  his  moods,  they  al- 
ways ended  in  giving  her  what  she  wanted.  He  was  an 
intrinsically  generous  and  compassionate  man,  and  such 
tempers  are  always  kindly  to  their  own  hurt. 

"  Damned  ungrateful  fellow  he  is  !  "  reflected  Cocky. 
"  As  if  there  wasn't  one  Court  that  he  ought  to  bless  me 
for  never  going  into." 

But  he  said  nothing  aloud,  and  left  the  recital  of  their 
difficulties  to  his  wife. 

She  plunged  immediately  into  the  narrative  of  their 
woes  and  needs,  the  Blenheims,  reduced  to  silence  through 
want  of  breath,  sitting  with  their  tongues  out  and  their 
heads  on  one  side,  listening  attentively  as  though  they 
were  two  auditors  in  bankruptcy. 

Hurstmanceaux  listened  also  in  an  unsympathetic  si- 
lence which  to  his  companions  seemed  to  bode  no  good  to 
themselves.  There  was  nothing  new  in  the  relation ; 
debts  have  seven -leagued  boots,  as  every  one  knows,  and 
people  who  spend  a  few  thousands  every  year  in  railway 
journeys,  but  do  not  pay  their  tailor,  shoemaker,  and 
greengrocer,  realize  this  with  unpleasant  frequency.  Then 
there  were  debts  of  honor  in  all  directions,  these  being 
the  only  form  of  honor  which  was  left  to  the  delinquents 
as  Hurstmanceaux  thought,  but  charitably  forebode  to 
say. 

He  looked  at  his  sister  whilst  she  spoke,  admiring  her 
appearance  whilst  he  scarcely  attended  to  her  words  be- 
cause he  knew  their  import  beforehand  so  painfully  well. 
.  What  a  terribly  expensive  animal  was  a  modern  woman 
of  the  world  !  As  costly  as  an  ironclad  and  as  compli- 
cated as  a  theatrophone.  The  loveliest  product  of  an  en- 
tirely artificial  state,  but  the  most  ruinous,  and  the  most 
irritating  to  those  whom  she  ruined. 

He  told  himself  that  Daddy  Gwyllian  had  been  entirely 
right.  And  he  hardened  his  heart  against  this  beautiful 
apparition  which  with  dewy  lips,  perfumed  hair,  and  a 
delicious  suggestion  of  a  nymph  fresh  from  a  waterbrook, 
stood  before  him  in  that  charming  attitude  of  contrition 


THE  MA8SA&ENE&  233 

and  candor  with  which  from  her  nursery  days  he  had  al- 
ways known  her  tell  her  very  largest  lies. 

"  So  all  the  dirt  you've  eaten  hasn't  done  you  any  good,*1 
he  said  curtly,  after  some  minutes  of  silence. 

"  What  can  you  possibly  mean  ?  "  said  Mouse. 

Cocky  chuckled  feebly.  He  knew  what  his  brother-in- 
law  meant. 

"  We  can't  bleed  Billy  every  day,"  he  murmured  in  an 
explanatory  tone. 

"You  seem  to  think  you  can  bleed  your  father  and  my- 
self whenever  you  please,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  in  his  most 
incisive  tones. 

"  Lord,  what  else  is  one's  family  for  ? "  said  Cocky 
candidly. 

His  wife  looked  with  impatience  at  the  clock,  for  she 
had  appointments  which  were  agreeable. 

"  Really,  I  think  we've  told  you  everything,"  she  said 
to  her  brother.  "  It  is  not  nice  of  you  to  insult  us  in  our 
troubles,  but  I  am  sure  you  mean  to  help  us  in  the  end, 
don't  you,  Ronnie  ?  " 

"  I  am  extremely  sorry,"  said  Hurstmanceaux.  "  But 
it  is  wholly  out  of  my  power  to  help  you  this  time.  Your 
debts  are  enormous.  The  only  possible  chance  for  you  is 
to  give  up  London  life,  and  life  in  the  world  altogether, 
and  go  and  retrench  in  the  country.  Why  not  at  Black 
Hazel  ?  It  would  be  admirable  for  the  children ;  and  your 
creditors,  if  they  knew  you  were  really  economizing,  could 
probably  be  induced  to  wait.  I  see  no  other  prospect 
possible." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Ronald,"  said  his  sister  curtly,  throw- 
ing her  handkerchief  rolled  in  a  ball  to  the  dogs. 

Her  husband  stared  through  his  eyeglass.  "  Ah — er — I 
thought  you  would  make  some  practical  suggestion  ;  some- 
thing feasible,  you  know  !  " 

Hurstmanceaux  frowned. 

"  So  I  do.  When  people  are  in  your  position  they  al- 
ways withdraw  to  their  Black  Hazel  or  whatever  their  re- 
treat is  called.  They  don't  go  on  living  in  the  world. 
Black  Hazel  is  a  delightful  place.  It  will  be  much  better 
than  a  second  floor  in  Florence,  or  a  boarding  house  in 


234  THE  MASSAEENES. 

Dresden,  which  many  people  come  to  who  are  in  your 
plight." 

His  sister  looked  at  her  watch. 

"  My  dear  Ronald,  I  have  no  more  time  to  spare  you," 
she  said  rather  insolently.  "And  if  you  can  suggest 
nothing  more  sensible  than  a  second  floor  in  Florence,  or  a 
bog  in  Ireland,  I  shall  lose  little  by  not  hearing  anything 
more  that  you  may  have  to  say." 

"  I  have  given  you  my  opinion  and  my  advice,"  said 
Hurstmanceaux  stiffly.  "  You  can  live  at  Black  Hazel 
tolerably  well,  and  in  a  way  becoming  your  position  ;  the 
air  is  very  fine  and  the  children  will  thrive  admirably. 
But  if  you  persist  in  continuing  your  present  rate  of  ex- 
penditure  " 

His  sister  opened  the  door  and  disappeared,  calling  the 
Blenheims  with  her. 

"Lord,  excuse  me,  Ronnie,  but  why  do  you  talk  that 
rot?"  said  her  husband,  peering  up  through  his  glasses  at 
his  brother-in-law.  "What  on  earth  is  the  use  of  going 
on  in  that  way  to  her?  Out  o'  London?  Down  in  the 
west  of  Ireland  ?  Your  sister  and  me  ?  Oh,  Lord  !  " 

The  idea  of  his  exile  from  "life"  so  tickled  his  fancy 
that  he  laughed  till  he  choked  himself. 

"  Black  Hazel !  Mouse  and  I  and  her  chicks  at  Black 
Hazel !  Oh,  good  Lord,  Ronnie  !  You  won't  beat  that  if 
you  try  for  a  week  o'  Sundays  !  " 

He  chuckled  feebly  but  merrity. 

"  What  is  there  to  laugh  at  ? "  said  Hurstmanceaux. 
"  Is  the  Bankruptcy  Court  more  agreeable  than  a  country 
place  which  is  your  own  and  where  you  will  be  your  own 
master  ?  " 

But  Cocky  continued  to  laugh  convulsively,  holding  his 
side  and  coughing. 

From  his  great  height  Hurstmanceaux  looked  down  in 
scorn  on  the  speaker. 

"  Pray,"  he  said  coldly,  "  do  you  ever  ask  how  your 
wife  gets  the  ready  money  she  has  to  carry  on  with  ?  " 

Kenilworth  shook  his  head. 

"Not  I.  Mutual  what  do-ye-call  it  and  non-interfer- 
ence is  the  only  sound  basis  for  domestic  peace." 

He  spoke  with  an  expression  of  implicit  seriousness  and 


THE  MASSABENES.  235 

good  faith ;  only  his  left  eye  winked  knowingly,  as  if  he 
had  said  something  very  amusing  indeed.  Hurstmanceaux 
wondered  if  it  would  be  within  decent  manners  to  kick 
one's  brother-in-law  on  his  own  hearth. 

"  You  are  an  unutterable  scoundrel,  Cocky,"  he  said, 
with  an  effort  mastering  his  impulse  to  use  acts  instead  of 
words. 

Kenilworth  remained  unmoved. 

"  That's  libel.  A  beak  would  fine  you  a  fiver  for  it," 
lie  said  placidly.  "  Do  you  happen  to  have  got  a  fiver 
about  you?" 

"  Go  and  ask  Brancepeth  for  one,"  said  Hurstmanceaux, 
white  with  rage. 

"Oh,  Lord  !  "  said  the  other  innocently.  "I've  had  his 
last  ages  ago.  He  is  a  very  poor  devil  is  Harry,  a  very 
poor  devil,  else  we  shouldn't  be  in  this  strait." 

Hurstmanceaux  approached  him  so  closely  that  Cocky, 
whose  nerves  were  skaken  by  much  absinthe  and  angos- 
tura,  trembled. 

"  I  would  sooner  my  sister  were  on  the  pavement  of  the 
Haymarket  than  that  she  were  the  wife  of  such  a  cur  as 
you." 

Cocky  breathed  more  freely. 

"  That  is  a  very  exaggerated  remark,"  he  murmured. 
"  You  are  so  very  stagy,  my  dear  Ronald,  so  very  stagy. 
You  should  have  lived  a  century  or  two  ago." 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  be  of  the  same  generation  as  your- 
self," said  Hurstmanceaux  sternly.  "  Great  heavens, 
man  !  You  come  of  a  good  stock  ;  you  will  be  chief  of  a 
great  house  ;  your  father  is  a  gentleman  in  every  fibre  of 
his  being;  how  can  you  endure  to  live  as  you  do  with 
your  very  name  a  byword  for  the  cabmen  in  the  street  ? 
There  is  not  a  servant  in  your  house,  not  a  match  seller 
on  your  area  steps,  not  a  stableboy  in  your  mews,  who 
does  not  know  the  dishonor  which  you  alone  affect  to  ig- 
nore !  She  is  my  sister,  I  am  ashamed  to  say  ;  but  I  can 
do  nothing  with  her  so  long  as  you,  her  husband,  condone 
and  countenance  what  she  does.  You  have  every  power; 
I  have  none.  Take  her  to  Black  Hazel,  sacrifice  yourself 
for  sake  of  your  children,  shut  yourself  up  there,  try  and 
lead  a  cleanly  life  and  make  her  lead  an  honest  one. 


236  THE  MASSARENES. 

Cease  to  be  the  miserable  thing  you  are — a  diseased 
maggot  living  on  putrefaction  ?  " 

Kenilworth  listened  imperturbably.  To  be  likened  to  a 
diseased  maggot  did  not  distress  him ;  it  slightly  diverted 
him  in  its  appositeness. 

"  The  children  ?  "  he  said  softly  and  slowly.  "  You  really 
think  I  ought  to  consider  those  children  ?" 

His  pale,  expressionless  grey  eyes,  becoming  suddenly 
full  of  unutterable  depth  of  expression,  looked  up  into  his 
brother-in-law's  and  said  volumes  without  words. 

Hurstmanceaux  grew  red  to  the  roots  of  his  bright  curly 
hair.  After  all,  the  woman  spoken  of,  if  this  man's  wife, 
was  his  own  sister,  his  favorite  sister,  the  little  one  whom 
he  had  carried  about  in  his  arms  when  a  boy,  up  and  down 
the  tapestried  galleries  and  the  oak  staircases  of  the  dear 
old  house  at  Faldon. 

Kenilworth  saw  that  emotion  and  despised  it,  but  thought 
he  would  profit  by  it  and  do  a  bit  of  dignity. 

"My  dear  Ronnie,"  he  said  almost  seriously,  "if  I  had 
married  another  sort  of  woman  than  your  sister  Clare,  I 
might  have  become  a  different  sort  of  man.  It  is  not 
likely;  still,  it  is  possible.  Bat,  you  may  believe  me,  if 
she  had  married  the  best  man  under  heaven,  she  would 
have  been  just  exactly  what  she  is.  Sages  and  angels 
wouldn't  alter  her.  Don't  you  fret  yourself  about  us. 
We  aren't  worth  it — I  grant  that.  We  are  of  our  time, 
and  we  shall  get  along  somehow.  Ta-ta,  Ronnie  ;  you  are 
a  good  boy.  Be  grateful  that  I  am  what  I  am  ;  if  I  were 
like  you,  vieux  jeu,  what  a  bother  I  should  have  made  for 
our  respective  families  long  ago  in  the  D.  C." 

And  with  a  low  complacent  chuckle  at  having  got  the 
best  of  the  argument,  he  dived  under  his  seat  for  his  hat, 
glanced  at  the  clock,  and,  with  an  apologetic  gesture  of 
two  fingers,  left  Hurstmanceaux  alone  in  the  morning- 
room  with  the  chinoiseries  and  nippoiiisdries. 

"  Now  his  conscience  will  work  and  make  him  miserable," 
he  thought,  as  he  went  across  the  hall  with  satisfaction. 
"  After  all,  I  said  the  truth,  and  he  knows  it  is  the  truth. 
She  is  his  sister,  and  she's  a  bad  a  lot  as  there  is  in  Lon- 
don, and  he'll  feel  he  owes  me  something,  arid  he'll  come 
down  handsomely,  stingy  old  bloke  though  he  is.  What 


THE  HASSARENES.  237 

duffers  those  sentiment  men  always  are  to  be  sure.  How 
neat  I  handled  him.  Gad,  if  he  didn't  blush  like  a  girl !  " 
And  Cocky  stepped  lightly  down  Park  Lane  to  Hamil- 
ton Place  and  entered  the  Bachelors  Club  "  fancying  him- 
self very  much,"  as  he  would  have  expressed  it;  and  quite 
aware  that  his  strategy  would  end  sooner  or  later  in  an 
interview  more  or  less  agreeable  to  his  interests  between 
his  own  lawyers  and  those  of  his  brother-in-law. 


238  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IT  was  another  wet  and  chilly  Easter  in  another  year, 
and  the  town  had  just  begun  to  fill  after  the  recess,  when 
one  morning  after  luncheon  the  good  Duke  of  Otterbourne, 
as  his  county  called  him,  riding  down  the  Kensington 
high  road,  was  thrown  from  his  horse,  between  whose 
forelegs  a  bicycle  had  staggered  and  fallen.  The  boy  on 
the  bicycle  was  but  scarcely  bruised  ;  the  Duke  was  carried 
insensible  to  the  nearest  pharmacy  and  never  rallied.  By 
four  o'clock  he  was  dead;  and  many  persons,  men  and 
women,  old  and  young,  gentle  and  simple,  felt  their  eyes 
wet  as  the  news  of  his  death  circulated  through  the  Park 
and  streets. 

His  daughter-in-law  heard  of  it  as  she  drove  in  at  Hyde 
Park  Corner;  a  man  she  knew  stopped  her  carriage  and 
broke  the  intelligence  to  her  as  gently  as  he  could.  She 
was  shocked  for  a  moment;  then  she  thought  to  herself: 
"  We  shall  have  Otterbourne  House  now,  and  I  suppose 
there'll  be  money,  at  least  for  a  time."  Then,  as  she 
always  studied  appearances,  she  went  home  decorously  and 
busied  herself  telegraphing  to  his  family  and  her  own. 

The  body  of  the  old  duke  had  been  already  taken  to 
Otterbourne  House  and  laid  on  his  bed  in  those  modest 
rooms  opening  on  the  gardens,  to  which  she  had  so  often 
desired  to  limit  him.  His  features  were  calm  and  wore  a 
look  of  peace ;  his  neck  had  been  broken  in  the  fall ;  it 
was  thought  probable  that  he  had  suffered  nothing,  not 
even  a  passing  pang.  Whilst  telegrams  were  being  sent 
all  over  England,  and  it  grew  dusk,  she  came,  clothed  in 
black,  and  knelt  by  the  low  bed,  weeping.  She  always 
did  what  was  right  in  small  things,  and  at  any  moment 
some  member  of  her  family  or  his  might  enter  the  room. 
Meanwhile  messengers  of  all  degrees,  servants,  grooms, 
commissionaires,  telegraph  boys,  were  rushing  to  and  fro 
over  the  metropolis  and  its  environs  in  their  vain  search 
for  the  Earl  of  Kenilworth.  No  one  had  any  idea  where 
Cocky  was. 


THE  MASSARENES.  239 

No  one  had  seen  him  for  two  days ;  his  absence  was  of 
so  slight  an  account  that  even  his  valet  never  took  any 
heed  of  it ;  it  was  surmised  that  he  was  in  congenial  so- 
ciety. 

She  was  thinking  as  she  knelt  of  the  alterations  she 
would  make  in  the  house ;  the  gardens  were  old-fashioned 
and  would  have  to  be  laid  out  afresh ;  the  circular  entrance- 
hall  should  be  made  a  patio  like  Frederic  Leighton's  and 
have  a  glass  dome  ;  the  picture  gallery  sadly  wanted  weed- 
ing, and  the  process  of  weeding  might  be  made  lucrative 
to  the  weeder,  for  dealers  would  buy  anything  out  of 
Otterbourne  House  with  their  eyes  shut;  the  small  oval 
room  painted  by  Angelica  Kauffman  should  be  her  boudoir. 
"I  sha'ri't  need  to  bore  myself  with  Billy,"  she  thought: 
the  duke  had  not  been  a  rich  man  and  had  been  impov- 
erished by  his  sacrifices  to  assist  Cocky;  but  still  things 
would  be  very  different  to  the  hand-to-mouth  life  which 
they  led,  and  which  drove  her  to  support  the  nuisance  of 
Harrenden  House  and  Vale  Royal,  and  similar  expedients. 
The  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  would,  she  reckoned,  have  a 
free  hand  at  least  for  a  time  ;  and  they  would  probably  be 
able  to  sell  lots  of  things  despite  the  entail. 

Alberic  Orme  arrived  that  night  from  his  country  vicar- 
age ;  he  was  white,  haggard,  inexpressibly  grieved;  he  had 
loved  his  father  dearly. 

"  Where  is  my  brother  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

The  two  younger  sons  were  away — the  one  with  his 
ship,  the  other  with  his  troop — in  the  Indian  Ocean  and 
at  the  Cape. 

"Cocky?"  said  Cocky's  wife.  "Oh,  they  are  looking 
for  him.  They  will  find  him — in  some  pot-house  !  " 

And  so  they  did  on  the  following  morning. 

When  messengers  in  hot  haste  went  flying  over  London 
to  find  his  son,  and  telegrams  were  being  despatched  to 
the  lamented  duke's  country  seats  and  county  towns, 
Cocky  was  drinking  gin  and  playing  poker  with  half-a- 
dozen  persons,  more  congenial  than  distinguished,  at  a 
little  riverside  inn  near  Marlow,  where  he  had  been  spend- 
ing three  days  lost  to  the  world,  but  dear  at  least  to  the 
hearts  of  Radical  journalists.  When  at  last  he  was  found, 
and  the  fatal  accident  to  his  father  communicated  to  him, 


240  THE  MASSARENES. 

Cocky,  who,  however  drunk  he  might  be,  never  became  a 
fool,  pulled  himself  together,  comprehended  the  position, 
and  put  all  the  money  lying  about  in  his  pocket. 

"  Damned  if  they'll  dare  ask  a  duke  for  it !  "  he  said  to 
himself  with  a  chuckle,  and  walked  quite  steadily  to  the 
carriage  which  had  come  for  him,  not  casting  even  a  look 
at  his  late  companions,  male  or  female,  who  were  too  awed 
and  astonished,  as  well  as  too  befumed  with  various  drinks 
to  stop  him  or  even  to  speak  to  him. 

"  I'll  have  a  rattling  good  time  now,"  he  thought,  as  he 
drove  to  the  Marlow  station.  "  And  I'll  divorce  her ; 
Lord,  what  a  joke  it'll  be !  Perhaps  they  won't  give  it 
me ;  I  dare  say  they  won't  give  it  me  ;  there's  a  marplot 
called  the  Queen's  Proctor ;  they'll  talk  of  collusion,  and 
she'll  bring  counter-charges,  and  all  the  rest  of  it ;  but 
we'll  have  the  fun  all  the  same,  and  she  won't  be  able  to 
show  her  face  at  Court.  They're  so  damned  particular  at 
Court  about  the  people  who  are  found  out !  So  is 
society:  she'll  be  drummed  out  of  society.  Lord,  what 
fun  it  will  be  !  " 

Better  even  than  gin  and  poker  and  music-hall  singers 
and  shady  bookmakers  in  a  village  on  the  Thames. 

Whilst  his  father  had  lived  that  fun  had  been  always 
peremptorily  forbidden  to  him. 

"  Whatever  your  wife  may  have  done  or  shall  do,  you 
have  forfeited  all  title  to  resent  it,"  the  old  duke  had 
always  said  to  him  ;  "  and  I  will  not  have  my  name  be- 
spattered with  your  filth  in  public." 

Wholly  unconscious  of  the  dark  designs  he  carried  in 
his  sodden  but  sharp  little  brains,  his  wife  was  almost 
civil  to  him  when  he  came  into  her  presence,  sobered  by 
the  fresh  air  he  had  breathed  on  his  return  from  Marlow. 
She  restrained  the  Blenheims  from  attacks  on  his  trousers, 
and  did  not  make  any  inquiries  as  to  why  he  had  been 
missing  for  fifty-six  hours. 

He  was  Cocky,  he  would  always  be  Cocky,  the  most 
wretched  little  scamp  in  creation ;  still  he  was  indispu- 
tably Seventh  Duke  of  Otterbourne,  and  had  considerable 
power  to  make  himself  disagreeable. 

Out  of  his  presence  she  enjoyed  rapturously  the  vitu- 
peration which  society  papers  and  the  Radical  press 


THE  MASSARENES.  241 

poured  upon  him  now  that  he  had  really  become  an  hered- 
itary legislator. 

"  They  are  too  funny  for  anything,"  she  said,  tossing  a 
handful  of  them  to  Brancepeth.  t;  They  must  have  had 
detectives  after  him  every  hour  of  his  life.  How  on  earth 
do  they  know  all  they  do?" 

"  It's  easy  enough  to  know  about  a  man  who  don't  pay 
his  cabman  and  borrows  sovereigns  of  his  valet,"  replied 
Brancepeth  with  equanimity,  picking  up  the  scattered 
news  sheets. 

"  Well,  he  won't  want  to  borrow  sovereigns  now,"  re- 
marked his  wife. 

"  Won't  he  ?  "  said  her  friend,  with  worlds  of  signifi- 
cance in  the  simple  words.     "  Oh,  Lord,  if  he  ever  gets  • 
to  heaven  he'll  pawn  St.  Peter's  key  !  " 

"  But  there'll  be  lots  of  money,  won't  there  ?  And  the 
roc's  egg  will  be  mine,  won't  it  ? "  she  asked,  for  her 
knowledge  of  such  matters  was  vague. 

"Ask  your  solicitor,"  said  Brancepeth. 

The  remains  of  the  late  duke  were  taken  down  to  Stag- 
hurst,  his  principal  place,  a  vast  mansion  and  a  vaster 
park  in  a  southwest  county,  his  sons  and  daughter  accom- 
panying the  corpse  ;  his  daughter-in-law  went  also,  taking 
with  her  Jack  and  Gerry  ;  in  small  things  she  always  did 
what  looked  well.  If  you  pay  in  halfpence  in  that  way 
the  world  pays  you  back  in  guineas. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  following  morning,  on  a 
very  disagreeable  day,  with  sleet  and  rain  and  wind ;  and 
the  family  vault  and  monuments  were  in  a  churchyard 
which  lay  fully  exposed  to  the  blasts  from  the  east,  with 
great  yews  overshadowing  it  and  sepulchral  figures  by 
Chantrey  and  Nollekens  and  Roubiliac,  looking  grim  and 
grey  in  the  foggy  air. 

The  late  duke  had  many  sincere  mourners,  for  he  had 
inspired  many  warm  friendships  in  his  own  world,  and 
respect  and  regard  in  all  classes.  Moreover,  the  large 
number  of  persons  who  in  various  ways  were  connected 
with,  or  dependent  on,  the  Duke  of  Otterbourne  could 
not  but  view  with  terror  the  advent  to  that  title  of  the 
small,  frail,  hectic  little  man,  who  had  so  cynical  a  smile 
in  his  pale  eyes  and  so  shppking  a  reputation  in  the  coun- 

16 


242  THE  MASSARENES. 

try.  Gossip,  too,  had  not  spared  that  lovely  lady  in  her 
graceful  crape  garments,  and  the  beautiful  little  boys, 
whose  rosy  cheeks  were  a  little  less  bright  than  usual,  as 
she  led  them  under  the  darkling  yews  and  the  sombre, 
weird  sculptures  of  the  tombs.  The  people  assembled 
there,  especially  the  tenantry,  peasantry,  and  servants,  all 
felt  that  the  reign  of  kindness,  straightforwardness,  andj 
dignity  was  over,  and  that  the  future  before  them  was  one1 
clouded  and  threatening. 

"  His  new  Grace  do  look  a  mighty  poor  chap,"  said  one 
old  laborer  to  another.  "And  the}'  do  say  as  his  blood's 
all  brandy,  and  none  o'  the  young  uns  is  his  own." 

"  Hold  yer  gab,  Garge,  or  they'll  hev  ye  in  the  lock- 
up," said  his  more  prudent  spouse. 

But  what  the  old  man  said  audibly  many  there  present 
thought. 

The  ceremony  was  dreary  and  tedious;  Jack  and  Gerry 
were  cold  and  frightened,  and  everyone  else  was  bored ; 
the  clergy  alone  were,  as  usual,  in  all  their  swelling  glory 
and  fussy  supremacy,  headed  by  the  late  duke's  brother, 
Augustus  Orme,  who  was  Bishop  of  Dunwich  and 
Waton-on-the-Naze. 

After  the  funeral,  and  reading  of  the  will,  the  local 
magnates  of  county  and  church  dispersed,  and  everyone 
else  returned  to  London  by  the  four  o'clock  express 
except  Cocky  and  his  wife.  He  was  chilly,  feverish, 
sleepy,  and  disinclined  to  leave  the  house,  and  she  wanted 
to  look  over  the  collection  of  historial  laces  which  had 
belonged  to  her  mother-in-law,  which  had  never  seen  the 
light  for  many  years,  Otterbourne  having  always  jealously 
guarded  them  as  the  most  sacred  heirloom.  They  could 
not  be  sold  now,  but  they  might  be  used,  in  various  ways ; 
at  the  least  they  would  adorn  Drawing-room  costumes  ; 
there  was,  she  knew,  a  manteau  de  cour  which  had  be- 
longed to  Henriette  d'Angleterre.  She  was  very  fond  of 
lace,  and  she  was  still  more  fond  of  little  mauvais  tours  ; 
she  did  not  forget  or  forgive  many  words  and  acts  of  the 
late  duke ;  it  was  one  of  those  unkind  small  revenges 
which  were  to  her  pampered  taste  as  cayenne  pepper  or 
chutney  is  to  a  jaded  palate,  to  unlock  the  dead  lady's 
Italian  cabinets  and  Indian  boxes  and  sandal-wood 


THE  MASSARENES.  243 

coffers,  and  to  play  havoc  with  the  Spanish  point, 
the  English  point,  the  Venetian  point,  the  Chan- 
tilly,  the  Flemish,  the  Dutch,  kerchiefs  and  collars 
and  aprons  and  flounces  and  edgings,  all  fine  and  rare, 
many  marked  with  the  arms  or  badges  of  famous  houses 
or  royal  wearers  of  a  vanished  time. 

The  poetic  interest  of  the  collection  was  nothing  at  all 
to  the  present  duchess ;  what  mattered  to  her  was  the 
value  of  it  in  money,  though  she  could  not  sell  it,  and 
the  effect  it  would  have  if  she  wore  any  of  it.  She  did 
not  herself  like  old  lace,  it  always  looked  yellow  and 
dingy ;  but  other  people  did  and  envied  it,  and  it  would 
all  look  very  nice  at  some  Loan  Collection,  and  make 
her  friends  most  agreeably  jealous.  She  passed  the  after- 
noon hours  over  it,  and  in  ransacking  all  the  little  drawers 
and  boxes  in  the  various  cabinets  of  what  had  been  the 
favorite  sitting-room  of  the  late  duchess.  Otterbourne, 
though  he  had  often  given  his  wife  cause  for  jealousy,  had 
been  profoundly  attached  to  her  and  had  kept  this  room 
untouched,  even  unentered,  except  to  be  swept,  dusted, 
and  aired. 

Mouse  knew  this  well  enough — she  had  often  been  irri- 
tated at  this  room  being  locked  against  her ;  but  her 
knowledge  did  not  prevent  her  pillaging  it  any  more  than 
the  sanctity  of  a  church  or  a  mosque  to  its  pious  devotees 
prevents  soldiers  from  sacking  and  firing  it.  She  had 
nothing  to  do,  this  rainy,  chilly,  dull  day,  and  the  exami- 
nation of  her  mother-in-law's  relics  and  treasures  served 
to  pass  the  time  ;  her  second  maid  aided  her,  a  sagacious 
and  discreet  young  woman,  who  knew  when  to  use  her 
eyes  and  when  to  close  them. 

The  poor  dead  duchess's  room  was  the  cosiest  and 
cheeriest  in  the  whole  huge  building  of  Staghurst,  which 
was  an  immense,  uninteresting,  last-century  house  built 
by  Bonnani,  and  with  a  fire  burning  on  its  long-cold 
hearth,  and  a  dozen  wax-candles  lighted  in  its  silver 
sconces,  it  was  a  warm,  comfortable,  pleasant  place  for  a 
chilly  evening.  She  had  a  nice  succulent  little  dinner 
served  there,  and  when  she  had  done  full  justice  to  it  re- 
turned to  her  examination  of  the  Japanese  cabinets  and 
the  Indian  boxes  and  the  sandal-wood  coffers. 


244  THE  MASSARENES. 

What  sentimental  creatures  men  are,  she  thought,  see- 
ing a  bouquet  of  flowers,  which  had  been  dead  five-and- 
twenty  years,  still  left  untouched  in  their  porcelain  bowl 
in  which  the  water  had  long  been  dry.  If  ever  there  was 
a  male  flirt,  poor  Poodle  had  been  one,  and  yet  he  had 
cherished  such  a  solemn  culte  for  his  dead  wife  that  he 
had  kept  her  morning-room  like  a  temple  for  a  quarter  of 
a  century !  It  seemed  to  her  ver}r  droll. 

The  little  boys  came  to  bid  her  good-night,  and  she 
gave  them  sogsae  marrons  glaces  and  kissed  them  and  sent 
them  away.  She  was  impatient  to  go  on  with  her  ex- 
mination  of  her  late  mother-in-law's  possessions  before 
anyone  could  interrupt  her,  for  she  did  not  know  at  all 
who  had  the  legal  right  to  them. 

Jack's  brilliant  eyes  under  their  long  lashes  roved  over 
the  room  and  espied  the  suggestive  confusion  of  it. 

"  She's  been  lootin',"  he  thought;  he  knew  what  looting 
was ;  Harry  had  told  him. 

"  P'rhaps  these  was  looted  too,"  he  thought,  gazing 
down  on  his  handful  of  Paris  chestnuts. 

He  was  a  very  honest  little  man ;  he  was  honest  by 
nature,  and  Harry  had  made  him  so  on  principle  ;  he  had 
never  seen  his  friend  "  dedful  angy  "  save  once,  when  he, 
Jack,  had  taken  a  large,  sweet,  crescent-shaped  cake  off 
a  stall  in  the  Promenade  des  Sept  Heures  at  Spa. 

His  mother  had  no  such  qualms  ;  she  continued  her  in- 
vestigations. 

There  were  things  which  would  have  touched  some  wo- 
men. There  were  the  love  letters  of  Otterbourne,  then 
Lord  Kenilworth,  ardent,  tender,  and  graceful,  tied  up 
with  faded  ribbon.  There  were  innocent  little  notes 
written  by  Cocky  in  a  big  round  hand  between  pencilled 
lines  beginning  "  my  darling  mama."  There  were  baby 
shoes  in  pale  blue  kid  and  pale  pink  satin,  of  which  the 
little  wearers  had  died  in  infancy.  There  were  diaries, 
very  simple,  very  brief,  not  always  perfectly  well  spelled, 
but  always  full  of  affectionate  records  and  entreating 
prayers  of  which  her  husband  and  her  children  were  the 
objects.  But  these  things  did  not  move  the  present  occu- 
pier of  the  title  and  of  the  room ;  she  pitched  them  all 


THE  MASSABENE8.  245 

into  a  heap  with  no  very  gentle  touch  and  cast  the  heap 
upon  the  fire.  Old  rubbish  was  best  burned  ! 

Just  as  she  had  done  so  and  was  assailed  by  an  un- 
pleasant misgiving  that  somebody  might  make  a  row 
about  the  destruction  of  these  things  (for  everybody  was 
so  foolish  arid  sentimental),  she  heard  the  voice  of  Cooky's 
body-servant  speaking  at  the  door  to  her  maid,  and  the 
maid  approached  her  with  a  rather  astonished  face. 

"  If  you  please,  your  Grace,  his  Grace  is  unwell : 
could  you  go  to  his  room  a  moment,  madam  ?  " 

"  Go  to  his  room  ?  " 

She  was  as  astonished  as  her  maid.  Cocky  must  be 
very  ill  indeed  if  she  were  summoned  to  him.  His 
chronic  maladies,  due  to  brandies  and  sodas  and  insomnia, 
were  never  even  named  to  her.  He  had  certainly  coughed 
and  shivered  at  the  funeral  that  forenoon,  and  in  the  train 
the  day  before,  but  then  he  so  often  did  this  no  one  attached 
any  importance  to  a  little  more  of  it  or  a  little  less. 

This  time,  however,  poor  Cocky,  over  whom  Providence 
(or  the  powers  of  darkness)  did  not  watch  as  they  ought 
to  have  done,  had  caught  something  worse  than  a  cold, 
standing  without  a  hat  so  long  in  that  biting  March 
morning,  in  a  damp  and  windy  country  churchyard,  and 
without  a  drop  of  anything  inside  him,  as  he  pathetically 
remarked. 

In  the  evening  he  was  so  unwell  with  shivering,  diffi- 
culty of  breathing,  and  pains  in  his  head  and  limbs,  that 
he  could  not  even  drink  liquors  and  enjoy  the  news- 
paper attacks  upon  himself  in  his  own  rooms,  but  had  to 
go  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock,  which  he  had  certainly  never 
done  since  his  early  boyhood. 

"  Most  unlucky  beast  in  all  creation  I  am,"  he  muttered 
as  he  shivered  between  the  sheets.  "  Just  got  the  rib- 
bons between  my  fingers  and  ten  to  one  the  coach'll  land 
in  a  ditch  ;  ditch  we  must  all  end  in,  eh  ?  Worms  and 
winding  sheet  and  all ;  even  Mouse'll  come  to  that  some 
time.  Here,  you,  get  me  some  brandy  and  don't  stand 
staring,  you  fool." 

But  his  valet  was  no  fool,  and  instead  of  bringing  the 
brandy  went  to  another  wing  of  the  house  for  the  doctor, 


246  THE  MASSARENES. 

who  had  always  lived  in  it  for  many  years  as  attendant 
-on  the  deceased  duke. 

The  doctor  found  the  new  duke  in  a  very  sad  state  of 
health,  with  some  fever  and  a  hacking  cough,  which 
threatened  to  become  pleuro-pneumonia  and  would  try 
the  slender  amount  of  strength  which  the  sick  man  pos- 
sessed very  dangerously;  he  advised  that  the  duchess 
should  be  told.  { 

So  she  was  told,  and  came  across  the  great  house  look-  ' 
ing  like  a  Burne-Jones  in  her  long  black  robes,  with  the 
fairness  of  her  skin  and  hair  dazzling  in  their  contrast  to 
her  garb  of  woe. 

"Is  it  anything  serious?"  she  said,  in  an  awed  voice, 
for  she  was  really  shocked  by  his  appearance,  and  did 
not  want  him  to  die  at  this  moment  of  his  succession. 

"  It's  skull  and  cross-bones  business ;  that's  what  it  is," 
said  her  husband  with  a  groan.  "  Rascally  east  wind  did 
it.  Don't  come  here ;  you  can't  do  me  any  good." 

A  famous  London  physician,  who  had  probably  killed 
more  people  than  any  other  doctor  living,  and  was  es- 
teemed proportionate^,  was  summoned  by  telegraph;  and 
by  the  sick  man's  own  desire  the  chief  solicitor  of  the 
county  town,  who  had  been  legal  adviser  and  agent  to  the 
late  duke,  was  sent  for,  to  return  in  all  haste  to  Stag- 
hurst  and  take  down  his  instructions.  Left  alone  with 
this  person  on  his  arrival,  by  his  own  express  desire, 
Cocky,  who  had  scarcely  any  voice  left,  whispered  to  him  : 

"  Would  it  keep  'em  out  of  the  succession  if  I  declare 
they  aren't  my  children  ?  " 

The  solicitor  hesitated  ;  he  felt  his  own  position  a  most 
delicate  and  embarrassing  one. 

"  Your  Grace  must  not  entertain  such  suspicions,"  he 
said,  with  some  confusion.  "  The  duchess  enjoys  the  es- 
teem and  respect  of  every— 

"  Stow  your  gab ! "  hissed  Cocky.  "  All  I  want  to 
know  is — if  I  made  a  formal  declaration,  would  it 
stand?" 

"  No,  sir — it  would  not." 

The  lawyer  thought  the  dying  man's  mind  wandered, 
being  himself  a  country  person  to  whose  ears  the  gossip 
of  smart  society  did  not  come.  "  Oh,  your  Grace,  you 


THE  MASSARENES.  .  247 

must  not  think  of  such  a  thing,"  he  added,  greatly  em- 
barrassed. "Dear  me,  dear  me,  I  do  not  know  what  to 
say,  sir." 

"Would  it  keep  her  brats  out?"  said  Cocky,  as 
savagely  as  his  failing  breath  allowed. 

The  lawyer  shook  his  head.  "No,  your  Grace — it 
would  not.  Whatever  may  have  happened,  sir,  you  have 
condoned,  you  see.  Of  course,  I  am  not  for  a  moment 
supposing  that  there  are  any  grounds " 

"  Stow  that  bosh  !  "  said  his  client,  as  savagely  as  his 
weakness  allowed.  "  If  I  could  have  divorced  her  all 
these  years,  and  didn't?  If  I  said  so  now?" 

The  lawyer  shook  his  head  again.  "  It  would  not 
stand,  sir." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Cocky. 

"  Children  born  in  wedlock  must  be  legitimate  heirs, 
your  Grace,"  the  lawyer  said,  very  decidedly,  to  pierce 
through  the  muddled  senses  of  the  dying  client. 

"  Wedlock,  eh  ? — wedlock  ?  "  repeated  Cocky  with  a 
chuckle  which  ended  in  a  convulsive  cough.  The  word 
tickled  his  fancy  mightily,  though  Mr.  Curton  could  not 
imagine  what  he  had  said  which  was  ludicrous.  "  Wed- 
lock !  "  echoed  Cocky;  "you  won't  beat  that,  Curton,  in 
a  brace  of  years  !  " 

"  The  word  is  good  law  and  good  English,  sir,"  said  the 
solicitor,  a  little  offended.  "  I  repeat,  after  so  many 
years  of  wedlock  you  could  not  leave  a  posthumous  charge 
of  the  kind  behind  you.  It  might  be  mere  pique  and 
malice  on  your  part.  No  Court  would  ratify  it.  It 
would  only  make  a  dreadful  scandal,  sir,  because,  I  pre- 
sume, Lord  Alberic  would  endeavor  to  uphold  your  declar- 
ation, since  he  is  next  in  succession  after  your  Grace's 
sons." 

An  angry  flash  came  into  Cocky 's  sunken  colorless 
eyes. 

"Beric?  Gad!  I'd  forgot  that.  So  he  would.  I'd 
rather  little  Jack  came  after  me.  He's  a  good  plucked 
one ;  bit  his  lips  not  to  squeal  when  I  pinched  him.  And 
I  don't  dislike  poor  "Harry.  He's  a  good  fellow,  and  she 
got  over  him." 

A  fit  of  coughing  stopped  his  revelations,  to  which  the 


248  THE  MASSARENES. 

discreet  lawyer  turned  a  deaf  ear.  He  was  an  excellent 
person  who  lived  in  a  large,  square,  white  house,  with 
shrubberies,  and  a  carriage-drive,  and  a  page  in  buttons ; 
to  him  marriage  was  marriage,  and  a  duke  and  duchess 
were  one  and  indivisible ;  when  such  people  got  into  law 
courts  he  was  sincerely  sorry  that  they  did  not  respect 
themselves  as  greatly  as  he  respected  them ;  he  knew  that 
the  gentleman,  too,  who  now  lay  dying  had  been  in  many 
discreditable  straits,  for  he  had  himself  been  frequently 
called  in  to  assist  in  getting  the  delinquent  out  of  them  ; 
but  a  duke  was  a  duke,  Otterbourne  was  Otterbourne,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  good  and  conservative  attorney,  and  he 
had  a  deaf  ear  which  he  could  turn  very  usefully  when 
needed. 

To  assist  in  making  such  a  terrible  hotch-potch  of 
scandal,  as  would  be  made  by  any  posthumous  repudia- 
tion, might  have  tempted  a  London  Old  Bailey  practi- 
tioner, but  it  did  not  tempt  for  an  instant  this  respectable 
rural  devotee  of  Themis. 

Cocky  was  silent  for  some  time,  breathing  hard  and  de- 
liberating what  he  would  do.  Almost  more  than  his  wife 
he  hated  his  brother  Alberic,  who  had  always  been  the 
beloved  of  his  father. 

He  raised  himself,  at  last,  feebly  on  his  pillows.  "  Look 
here,  Curton,"  he  said,  with  gasping  effort,  "  you  make  my 
will,  and  be  quick  about  it,  for  I'm  dead  beat.  I  can't 
touch  much,  I  know,  but  where  I  can  do  anything,  make 
it  as  deuced  unpleasant  for  her  as  you  can  ;  and  renew  the 
— the — what  d'ye  call  it — settlement  for  the  jewels,  so 
that  she'll  have  to  give  'em  up  ;  renew  it  just  as  it  stood 
in  my  father's  and  grandfather's  wills,  will  you?  And 
look  here,  Curton :  I  appoint  as  guardians  my  brother- 
in-law  and  my  uncle  Augustus." 

Mr.  Curton  inclined  his  head  in  approval. 
"  Lord  Hurstmanceaux  and   the  Bishop  of  Dunwich  ? 
Your  Grace  could  not  make  a  more  admirable  selection. 
The  highest  principle- 
Cocky  chuckled  with  a  sound  very  like  the  death-rattle. 
"  I  choose  Ronnie  'cause  he's  so  damned  conscientious,  he 
can't   refuse,   and   he'll    hate  it   so ;    and   I    choose   old 
Augustus  'cause  he  came  down  once  when  I  was  a  shaver 


THE  MASSARENES.  249 

at  Eton  and  never  tipped  me,  and  gave  rue  a  beastly  book 
called  4  The  Christian  Year.'  Make  it  all  as  deuced  an- 
noy in'  to  both  of  'em  as  you  can.  Lord,  what  a  pother 
they'll  find  all  my  affairs  in — that's  a  comfort." 

And  it  was  a  genuine  tonic  and  cordial  to  him  to  think 
how,  after  his  decease,  all  his  sins  and  embarrassments 
would  continue  to  circle  like  mosquitos  around  the  heads 
of  his  trustees  and  executors. 

"  Beric  will  hate  being  left  out,"  he  murmured  ;  on  the 
whole  he  was  getting  considerable  fun  out  of  this  ante- 
mortem  duty.  But  it  was  a  bore  to  die,  an  awful  bore, 
just  when  he  had  come  into  things  and  could  do  what  he 
liked ;  he  moved  restlessly  and  uneasily  on  his  bed  while 
the  lawyer  wrote  out  the  clauses  of  the  testament,  hastening 
as  much  as  he  could,  for  he  saw  that  every  breath  might 
be  his  client's  last.  When  the  witnesses  were  called  in, 
oxygen  was  given  to  the  dying  man,  and  he  rallied 
enough  to  sit  up  in  his  servant's  arms  and  sign  "  Otter- 
bourne  "  legibly,  in  that  clear  handwriting  which  he  had 
learned  at  Eton,  and  which  had  signed  so  much  "  bad 
paper." 

"  I  couldn't  do  much,  but  I've  done  what  I  could,"  he 
said  feebly,  as  the  pen  fell  from  his  fingers.  "  To  be 
damned  disagreeable  to  'em  all  round,"  he  concluded,  as 
his  cough  permitted  him  to  complete  the  phrase. 

"  What  a  Christian  spirit !  "  murmured  the  vicar  of  the 
village,  who  was  present  to  witness  the  will,  and  had  not 
heard  the  concluding  sentence. 

"  Shut  up  !  "  said  Cocky  feebly  but  viciously.  "  You 
parsons  are  just  like  ravens,  always  comiri'  and  cawin' 
where  anybody's  bein'  snuffed  out ;  birds  of  ill-omen,  you 
are — marryin'  and  buryin' — he,  he  !  " 

The  scared  vicar  looked  aghast  at  the  polished  London 
physician.  "  The  mind  wanders :  the  end  is  near,"  mur- 
mured that  bland  person,  with  a  professional  sigh. 

Mr.  Curton  shook  his  head  as  he  folded  up  the  docu- 
ment. It  was  all  very  painful  to  the  excellent  lawyer ; 
it  destroyed  all  his  theories  of  the  nobility;  and  to  make 
a  ducal  will  in  a  hurry  seemed  to  him  almost  like  leze- 
majesty. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir,"  he  murmured,  in  sad  and  useless  re- 


250  THE  MASSARENES. 

gret,  "  why,  oh,  why  leave  such  a  document  as  this  to  such 
a  moment?  " 

"  Always  thought  the  pater'd  outlive  me,"  murmured 
Cocky ;  "  so  he  would — twenty  years — if  that  byke  hadn't 
upset  him." 

Mouse,  sweet,  resigned,  composed,  regretful,  came  noise- 
lessly into  the  chamber  of  death,  leading  Jack  by  the 
hand,  very  sober  and  a  little  frightened,  with  his  beauti- 
ful black  eyes  wide  open  and  fixed  in  a  vague  terror  on 
the  bed. 

"  Dear  little  angel !  "  murmured  the  vicar,  at  whom  Jack 
was  wont  to  aim  paper  pellets  in  church. 

Mouse  approached  the  bedside.  "  Beric  is  here,  dear," 
she  said  gently.  "  He  begs  to  see  you.  May  he  come  in  ? 
Ronald  is  here,  too." 

"  Goody-goody  and  the  Miser  ?  "  said  her  husband,  in  a 
muffled  faint  voice.  "  No ;  tell  'em  both  to  go  to  the 
devil." 

Cocky  closed  his  eyes,  and  lay  to  all  outward  semblance 
unconscious  and  indifferent  to  worldly  things  ;  the  worn- 
out  lungs  drawing  in  desperately  a  few  last  breaths  of  air. 
Who  shall  say  what  vain  regrets  for  lost  opportunities,  for 
wasted  talents,  for  foolish  and  fruitless  hours,  were  in  his 
thoughts  ?  He  looked  already  dead,  save  for  the  slight 
labored  heaving  of  his  chest  beneath  the  bedclothes. 

And  there  had  been  a  time  when  in  that  very  house  he 
had  been  a  pretty,  innocent,  beloved  child  ;  when  he  had 
been  clasped  in  a  mother's  arms,  her  idol  and  her  hope ; 
when  he  had  run  across  those  lawns  without  with  fleet 
feet  and  flying  hair ;  when  old  servants  had  watched  his 
every  step,  repeated  his  every  word,  and  a  proud  race  had 
seen  in  him  the  security  for  its  future  continuance  and 
honor ! 

The  vicar  by  sheer  force  of  habit  folded  his  hands,  com- 
posed a  pious  face,  and  began  a  prayer. 

"  O  Lord  our  God,  let  this  Thy  good  and  faithful 
servant " 

"  Stop  that,"  said  Cocky,  opening  his  eyes.  "  I  won't 
bluff  the  Almighty  just  at  the  last  out  of  funk." 

It  was  one  feeble  flicker  of  the  honor  of  his  race,  which 
he  had  outraged  and  derided  all  the  forty  years  of  his  life, 


THE  MASSARENES.  251 

but  which  in  the  moment  of  death  came  to  him  for  one 
second.  The  words  shocked  his  hearers  as  a  blasphemy, 
but  in  truth  they  expressed  the  only  honorable  scruple  of 
a  dishonorable  life.  He  would  not  "  bluff  the  Almighty  " ; 
he  would  not  at  the  end  of  all,  and  in  the  face  of  death, 
turn,  out  of  fear,  to  what  he  had  mocked  and  ridiculed 
through  all  his  years  of  life. 

"  Get  on  the  bed  and  kiss  your  poor  dear  papa,  my 
lord,"  whispered  the  nurse,  who  had  followed  Jack  into 
the  room  lest  he  should  worry  her  lady. 

Jack  hung  back,  reluctant,  but  the  slender  white  hands 
of  his  mother,  which  could  hold  so  tightly,  gripped  him 
round  the  waist  and  lifted  him  on  to  the  bed.  He  burst 
out  cryirg  from  fright  and  a  vague  pity  which  stirred  in 
his  childish  bosom.  Then  his  compassion  made  him  con- 
quer his  fears.  He  put  his  fresh  rosy  mouth  shrinkingly 
to  the  waxen  sunken  cheek  of  the  dying  man.  But  Cocky 
by  a  supreme  effort  turned  his  head  away  with  a  glare  of 
anger  in  his  eyes,  and  the  child's  warm  lips  kissed  the 
pillow. 

"  Damn  you  and  your  brats  !  "  he  said,  with  enfeebled 
voice  but  intensified  venom,  and  his  gaze,  full  of  meaning, 
met  hers,  and  said  all  which  he  had  never  spoken  through 
all  the  years  in  which  she  had  borne  his  name. 

"  It  is  so  sad  how  often  the  dying  take  a  hatred  to  what 
they  love  best  in  life,"  she  murmured  to  the  London 
physician,  a  bland  bald  person  who  had  buried  patients 
in  Westminister  Abbey,  and  that  second  best  Valhalla, 
St.  Paul's. 

"  Damn  you  and  all  your  brats ! "  Cocky  muttered 
feebly  again  as  his  gaze  sought  and  found  his  wife's 
face  through  the  mist  of  unreality  which  was  fast  hiding 
all  the  facts  and  figures  of  existence  from  him  for  ever- 
more. 

"  Let  us  pray,"  said  the  vicar  in  a  hushed  and  awed 
voice,  for  he  was  indeed  unspeakably  shocked.  She 
dropped  on  her  knees  and  everyone  else  knelt  also. 

Then  the  shrill  short  labored  breathing  ceased  to  whistle 
feebly  through  the  silence  :  the  bed-covering  heaved  no 
more. 

Cocky  was  dead. 


252  THE  MASSARENES. 

The  child  slipped  down  on  to  the  floor.  Alberic  Orme 
and  Hurstmanceaux  stood  hesitating  on  the  threshold  of 
the  chamber. 

"  Oh,  dear  Duchess  ! "  sighed  the  fashionable  Esculapius, 
who  was  eminently  pious.  "  These  are  the  trials  which 
are  sent  to  us  to  detach  us  from  earthly  affections !  The 
ways  of  God  are  inscrutable,  but  we  must  not  question 
their  merciful  purpose." 

Cocky  lay  on  the  bed  between  them,  very  straight,  very 
waxen,  very  like  an  effigy  in  yellow  stone  ;  but  looking 
down  on  him  his  wife  shuddered,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that 
his  left  eye  opened  and  winked  and  that  his  rigid  jaw 
grinned.  She  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that,  though 
she  would  soon  comfortably  forget  all  the  rest  of  him, 
Cocky's  grin  and  Cocky's  wink  would  long  rise  up  in  her 
memory. 


MASSARENES.  253 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IN  another  week  he  also  was  carried  out  under  the  big 
yews  and  the  Chantrey  and  Roubiliac  statues,  and  laid 
beside  the  remains  of  his  father  and  forefathers  in  a  black- 
velvet  covered  coffin  with  silver  handles  and  his  ducal 
coronet  upon  it.  But  he  had  no  sincere  mourners,  not 
one,  although  in  the  usual  sickly  tawdry  habit  of  the  time 
heaps  of  wreaths  and  garlands  were  piled  up  to  his  de- 
tested memory.  His  wife  was  again  present,  enveloped 
in  the  long  crape  veil  of  usage,  with  her  two  little  sons 
beside  her — a  most  touching  and  lovely  figure.  During 
the  ceremony  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  any  ob- 
server to  say  whether  she  were  profoundly  touched  or 
merely  apathetic ;  but  at  one  point  in  the  service,  when 
the  village  choir  were  singing  a  Mendelssohn  hymn,  her 
head  drooped  lower  and  lower,  and  her  veiled  figure 
moved  with  what  resembled  a  convulsive  sob :  a  corre- 
spondent of  a  daily  paper,  indeed,  scribbled  in  shorthand 
that  only  for  one  instant  did  her  admirable  fortitude  give 
way  to  an  irrepressible  burst  of  natural  anguish.  Jack 
knew  better:  he  nudged  Gerry  and  whispered  very  low: 
"  Mammy's  laughin'.  We  mustn't." 

Amongst  the  floral  decorations  there,  heaped  on  and 
about  the  coffin,  there  was  a  harp  made  of  lilies  with  silver 
strings  and  one  string  broken.  As  an  emblem  of  Cocky's 
life  it  was  really  too  deliciously  funny.  It  got  the  better 
of  her  nerves  and  she  was  forced  to  bury  her  face  in  her 
handkerchief. 

For  on  the  harp  was  a  card,  and  on  the  card  was  written 
in  a  big  sprawling  handwriting,  "  From  Lily." 

Lily  Larking,  of  the  Salamander  Music  Hall,  of  course  . 

It  was  too  irresistibly  droll.  She  laughed  till  she  really 
cried. 

Happily  all  human  emotions  are  so  closely  related  that 
irrepressible  laughter  resembles  irrepressible  tears  enough 


254  THE  MASSARENES. 

to  deceive  a  newspaper  correspondent  and  a  sympathetic 
crowd. 

"Isn't  it  too  comical?  "  she  said  to  her  sister  Carrie. 

"  Very  droll,  yes,"  said  Lady  Wisbeach.  "  Awfully 
cheeky  in  the  woman  sending  a  wreath  here." 

"How  Cocky  would  laugh  if  he  knew,"  said  his  widow 
she  could  not  divest  herself  of  the  feeling  that  Cocky  did 
know,  and  did  enjoy,  the  farce  of  his  own  burial. 

Poor  Cocky !  Well,  he  was  buried  for  good  and  all, 
with  his  crowns  and  crosses  and  harps  arid  garlands  all 
left  to  wither  and  rot  above  him,  and  he  would  never  bore 
her  and  worry  her  and  annoy  her  any  more.  She  felt  al- 
most charitably  toward  him  ;  he  might  have  been  worse, 
he  might  have  been  interfering  and  difficult  and  quarrel- 
some, and  might  have  noticed,  as  his  father  had  done,  that 
the  pretty  children  in  his  nursery  had  little  resemblance 
to  his  family  portraits.  All  was  quite  safe  now,  and 
he  was  silent  for  ever  under  his  mass  of  decaying 
flowers. 

She  passed  to  her  carriage  on  her  brother's  arm,  amidst 
a  respectful  murmur  of  deep  admiration  and  of  that  genu- 
ine good  feeling  which  is  so  often  awakened  in  crowds, 
they  know  not  why  and  hardly  know  for  whom. 

"  Poor  dear  pretty  crittur,  widdered  in  all  her  bloom  !  " 
said  a  good  village  dame  to  her  husband,  the  water  in  her 
honest  eyes  as  they  followed  the  two  little  fair  heads  of 
the  orphaned  boys. 

Then  they  all  returned  to  the  castle,  and  the  will  was 
read,  and  the  thing  was  over,  and  she  ate  a  luncheon  in 
her  own  rooms  with  a  good  appetite. 

She  was  relieved  that  her  sisters-in-law  had  taken  their 
departure  without  going  into,  or  making  any  remark 
about,  their  late  mother's  morning-room.  The  fact  was, 
that  these  ladies  disliked  her  so  extremely  that  they  had 
hurried  away  after  each  funeral  as  quickly  as  they  could, 
compatible  with  usage  and  decency. 

Her  portrait  by  Henner  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
pictures  in  the  galleries  of  Staghurst ;  but  the  old  duke's 
daughters  would  have  preferred  less  loveliness  and  more 
scruples  in  the  mother  of  thelittelboy  with  the  soft  black 
eyes,  who  was  now  the  lawful  head  of  their  family. 


THE  MASSARENES.  255 

Jack,  meanwhile,  was  full  of  his  own  new  position, 
which  his  mind  only  dimly  grasped ;  and  the  whole  thing 
puzzled  him  greatly.  Fifteen  days  before  they  had  put 
his  grandfather  in  a  box,  and  shut  down  the  slab  of  stone 
on  him,  and  now  they  were  doing  the  same  with  poor 
pappy,  who  would  never  any  more  come  behind  him  on 
the  staircases  and  painfully  pinch  his  legs,  or  tap  a  hot 
cigarette  unexpectedly  against  his  cheek.  Why  was  not 
Harry  here  to  make  it  all  clear  to  him  ?  He  did  not 
know  that  Harry,  who  really  and  profoundly  mourned  the 
dead  man,  had  desired  to  come  to  the  funeral,  had  en- 
treated to  be  allowed  to  come,  but  had  been  peremptorily 
forbidden. 

He  noticed  that  all  the  people  about  Staghurst  regarded 
him  with  awe,  and  the  women  bobbed  very  low  in  the 
country  lanes ;  and  the  young  footman  who  waited  on  him 
at  table  was  very  solicitous  to  press  on  him  jams  and  can- 
died fruits.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had 
ever  had  as  much  jam  as  he  wished  for;  rank  has  its 
privileges  still,  despite  the  Labor  Party. 

"  That's  the  little  duke,  bless  his  pretty  face  I  "  he  had 
heard  the  women  say  who  were  respectfully  gathered  about 
the  churchyard  entrance  to  see  the  great  people  come  out 
from  the  gate.  And  very  pretty  Jack  did  look,  with  his 
bright  hair  shining  like  new  gold  against  his  sable  gar- 
ments, and  a  look  of  pity  and  wistfulness  and  solemnity 
on  his  face  which  was  touching. 

"  Am  I  really  duke  and  all  that  ?  "  he  asked  later  of  the 
nurse  who  had  accompanied  them  to  Staghurst. 

She  replied :     "  You  really  are,  sir,  yes." 
i      "  Am  I  what  gran'pa'  was  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Grace,  yes." 

He  pondered  deeply  on  the  fact,  standing  with  his  legs 
very  wide  apart  and  his  brows  knitted. 

"  Then  I'll  live  with  Harry." 

The  nurse,  who  was  discretion  itself,  answered,  "  Your 
Grace  will  do  just  what  ever  your  Grace  wishes." 

"That'll  be  jolly,"  said  the  new  duke;  and  he  stood  on 
his  golden  head. 

"  But  I  suppose  I  shall  always  have  to  behave  very 
well,"  he  thought,  in  a  soberer  moment.  The  obligation 


256  THE  MASSARENES. 

was  painful ;  Jack's  natural  man  was  naughty ;  not  as 
naughty  as  Boo  wished  him  to  be,  but  still  naughty, 
naughty  in  a  frank  sportive  merry  way.  as  colts  are  skit- 
tish and  pups  destructive. 

His  mother  enjoyed  her  luncheon,  because  that  long 
Service  had  given  her  renewed  appetite,  and  she  was  in- 
finitely diverted  by  Lily  Larking  a  wreath ;  but,  all  the 
same,  she  felt  as  she  had  never  felt  in  her  life,  lonely, 
insecure,  anxious,  apprehensive.  Cocky  had  been  more 
support  to  her  than  she  had  realized  before  his  death ;  his 
connivance,  his  condonation,  his  ready  resources  in  diffi- 
culty, his  unlimited  unscrupulousness,  had  all  been  more 
useful  and  more  valuable  than  she  had  ever  realized  until 
they  were  all  lost  to  her  for  ever.  Their  association  had 
not  been  much  more  creditable  than  that  of  two  thieves 
or  marauders,  but  mutual  interest  had  bound  them  to- 
gether as  it  binds  those,  and  the  link,  when  broken,  left  a 
blank. 

Moreover,  had  she  not  married  him  to  be  Duchess  of 
Otterbourne?  She  was  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  now,  but 
shorn  of  all  the  advantages  appertaining  to  the  title  except 
the  mere  barren  rank.  Anything  more  odious  than  the 
position  of  a  widow  living  on  her  jointure  and  bullied  by 
trustees,  could  not,  she  thought,  be  conceived.  She  had 
not  been  able  to  grasp  the  sense  of  Cocky 's  will  as  it  had 
been  read  aloud  in  its  barbarous  legal  jargon  and  bastard 
Latin,  but  she  had  understood  that  it  was  u  nasty/'  very 
nasty  in  its  provisions;  and  that  as  guardians  of  the  chil- 
dren, there  were  appointed  her  brother  and  Augustus 
Orme,  the  churchman.  She  seemed,  herself,  to  come  in 
nowhere,  and  to  have  no  power  or  privileges  of  any  sort, 
and  to  be  cut  down  as  utterly  in  every  way  as  the  provi- 
sions of  her  marriage  settlements  allowed. 

There  had  been  so  much  solidarity  between  Cocky  and 
herself  in  their  way  of  looking  at  life,  in  their  enjoyment 
of  ruse  and  expedient,  in  their  mutual  sense  of  the  injustice 
and  the  nuisance  of  things,  that  this  sympathy  between 
them  had  prevented  her  from  perceiving  that  the  man  she 
had  married  hated  her  very  bitterly  for  having  married 
him.  She  was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for  the  many 
forms  of  vengeance  which  were  gathered  together  in  that 


TH£  MASSAEENES.  257 

neat  and  formal  document  which  was  the  last  will  and 
testament  of  the  companion  of  her  life. 

Cocky  had  never  expected  to  outlive  his  father  ;  but  he 
had  always  said  to  himself :  "  By  God,  if  I  do !  " 

The  law — that  stiff,  starched,  unbending,  and  unpleas- 
ant thing  which  comes  so  often  between  us  and  our  de- 
sires— had  denied  him  the  pleasure  of  doing  much  that  he 
had  wished  to  do,  but  all  that  it  had  let  him  do  he  had 
done  to  punish  and  torment  the  lady  who  had  wedded  him 
44  with  a  card  up  her  sleeve." 

When  Hurstmanceaux  and  Alberic  Orme  came  to  visit 
her,  after  the  lawyers  and  the  other  members  of  the 
family  had  left  the  castle,  they  were  both  surprised  to 
see  how  seriously  depressed  and  how  much  worn  she 
looked. 

44  Did  you  see  Lily  Larking's  wreath  ?  It  was  too 
droll,"  were  her  first  words. 

Lord  Alberic  briefly  replied  that  he  had  not. 

"  It  was  scandalous  that  it  was  allowed  to  pass  the 
church  doors,"  said  Hurstmanceaux.  "I  suppose  they 
did  not  know." 

44  Of  course  they  did  not  know ;  who  should  have 
heard  of  Lily  Larking  in  Somersetshire  ?  We  can  go  up 
to  town  to-night,  can't  we,  Ronnie  ?  " 

44  Do  you  wish  it  ?  There  is  a  ten  o'clock  train.  The 
children  would  be  better  in  bed." 

44  That  does  not  matter.     I  want  to  be  in  town." 

She  was  anxious  to  get  away  from  Staghurst,  which  had 
grown  hateful  to  her,  and  was  very  desirious  to  learn 
something  which  she  could  only  learn  in  London,  viva  voce^ 
from  her  own  lawyer,  Mr.  Gregge,  a  gentleman  who  had 
not  been  invited  to  either  of  the  funerals,  though  his  ex- 
istence, as  her  confidential  adviser,  had  been  known  to 
both  the  families. 

She  and  her  brother  and  brother-in-law  dined  together 
At  eight  o'clock.  She  was  silent  and  pre-occupied. 

"  Who  would  ever  have  imagined  that  any  woman 
would  lament  Cocky's  loss  ?  "  thought  Alberic  Orme  ;  and 
Hurstmanceaux  thought,  "  Souvent  femme  varie,  bien  fol 
qui  s*y  fie.  The  idea  of  her  mourning  for  Cocky  !  "  They 
could  not  see  into  her  mind,  which  was  gloomy  arid 
17 


£58  THE  MASSAEENES. 

troubled,  like  the  dark  old  ponds  which  were  lying  black 
under  a  fitful  moonlight  in  the  melancholy  park  without. 

Both  the  men  who  accompanied  her  up  to  town  were 
perplexed.  The  tears  which  rose  to  her  eyes,  the  unmis- 
takable trouble  in  her  expression,  the  look  of  anxiety  and 
sorrow  were  genuine  ;  there  was  no  doubt  about  it.  Lord 
Albeiic,  who  had  always  been  very  cold  to  her,  wondered 
if  he  had  done  her  injustice  all  these  years,  and  Hurst- 
manceaux,  who  knew  her  better,  thought :  "  She  counted 
on  having  a  rattling  good  time  on  the  succession,  and 
she's  really  sorry  that  little  blackguard  is  dead." 

But  it  was  a  matter  concealed  from  almost  everyone, 
and  of  which  neither  family  dreamed,  which  was  racking 
her  nerves  like  neuralgia.  It  was  the  destination  of  the 
big  diamond,  the  roc's  egg,  which  had  been  her  ostensible 
object  in  marrying  Cocky. 

When  she  thought  of  that  jewel,  high-couraged  and 
mettlesome  and  thoroughbred  though  she  was,  a  sickly 
chill  passed  over  her,  and  she  shuddered,  as  she  looked  at 
her  brother's  profile  in  the  faint  light  of  the  railway-lamp, 
as  the  train  sped  through  the  night.  For  she  had,  in 
vulgar  parlance,  pawned  the  famous  jewel. 

That  is  to  say,  that  being  in  great  want  of  money,  of  a 
sum  so  large  that  no  one  she  could  appeal  to  would  be 
likely  or  even  able  to  give  it  to  her,  she  had  borrowed 
that  sum,  four  }rears  previously,  on  the  roc's  egg,  of  a 
great  jeweler,  who  had  caused  to  be  made  for  her  such  a 
precise  counterfeit  in  paste  that  no  detection  was  possible 
by  the  naked  eye. 

The  famous  jeweler  was  a  Pole  by  birth,  a  Parisian  by 
long  residence  and  habit;  he  had  dropped  his  own  name, 
which  had  been  politically  compromised  in  his  earliest 
manhood  and  for  forty  years  had  traded  in  the  city  of 
his  adoption  as  a  naturalized  Frenchman,  known  as  M. 
Boris  Beaumont.  His  riches  were  now  great ;  his  taste 
in  and  knowledge  of  gems  were  unerring;  and  he  had 
that  note  of  fashion  without  which  a  great  tradesman  in 
Paris  is  an  Apollo  without  a  bow  or  a  lute.  All  the  great 
ladies  were  his  clients  ;  without  something  of  Beaumont's 
no  bridal  corbeille  was  well  furnished  ;  his  exquisite  trifles 
were  the  most  distinguished  of  New  Year's  gifts.  He  was 


THE  MASSARENES.  259 

deferential,  good-natured,  adroit;  in  his  trade  he  was  ab- 
solutely to  be  depended  on  ;  if  Beaumont  told  you  a  stone 
was  good,  you  might  buy  it  without  further  warranty,  and 
you  would  never  repent ;  the  price  of  it  was  high,  even 
very  high ;  but  if  you  made  that  objection  he  would  say 
briefly  with  a  little  shrug :  "  Que  voulezvous  ?  Ca  vient 
de  moi  !  " 

Behind  his  very  elegant  shop  was  a  conservatory,  be- 
hind the  conservatory  was  a  little  salon  where  his 
patronesses  could  have  ices  or  tea  according  to  the  season, 
and  read  Gyp's  last  delightful  persiflage.  In  that  little 
salon  many  a  secret  has  been  confided  to  Beaumont ; 
many  a  dilemma  been  exposed  to  him. 

" Les  honnetes  femmes  f  Les  honnetes  femmes !  "he  said 
once  to  a  friend.  "Ah  mon  cher,  il  ny  qudles  pour 
canaille  !  "  But  it  was  rarely  he  was  so  indiscreet  as  this, 
though  he  knew  so  many  of  the  passions  and  pains  which 
throbbed  under  the  diamond  tiaras  and  the  sapphire 
rivieres  in  the  brains  and  in  the  breasts  of  his  fair 
clients. 

Now  and  then  Beaumont  went  to  the  opera,  or  to  the 
Frangais  on  a  Tuesday,  and  from  his  modest  stall  looked 
up  at  his  patrician  patronesses  in  all  the  beauty  of  their 
semi-nudity,  their  admirable  maquillage^  their  wondrous 
toilettes,  and  then  he  smiled  as  he  lowered  his  glasses  with 
a  little  malice  but  more  indulgence. 

To  Mouse,  of  course,  Beaumont  was  well  known :  when 
she  had  wanted  this  large  sum  he  had  taken  it  from  his 
capital  for  her,  but  as  security  he  would  accept  in  return 
nothing  less  than  the  famous  Otterbourne  jewel. 

"  You  have  it.  Bring  it  me,"  he  said  as  simply  as  if  he 
had  been  speaking  of  a  bit  of  cornelian  or  agate. 

In  vain  she  implored,  protested,  entreated,  wept,  tried 
all  the  armory  of  persuasion,  represented  that  he  was 
tempting  her  to  a  crime,  actually  to  a  crime! 

"  Ah,  no,  madame,"  said  Beaumont  very  gently,  "I 
tempt  you  to  nothing.  I  would  rather  keep  my  three 
hundred  thousand  francs  in  the  Bank  of  France.  I  do 
not  wish  for  your  diamond  at  all.  Only  if  there  be  any 
question  of  this  loan,  that  is  the  only  security  I  can  take 
for  it.  Whether  you  like  these  terms  or  not  is  nothing  to 


260  THE  MA8SARENES. 

me ;  they  are  mine,  and  I  cannot  change  them.  The 
affair  will  oblige  you,  madame,  not  me." 

Beaumont  was  not  an  unkind  man ;  more  than  one 
young  actress  had  owed  her  prosperity  to  him,  more  than 
one  honorable  family  had  been  saved  from  ruin  by  his  as- 
sistance ;  but  to  women  like  Mouse  he  was  inflexible,  he 
had  not  a  shred  of  compassion  for  their  troubles,  and  never 
believed  a  word  they  spoke ;  he  dealt  with  them  harshly 
and  obstinately ;  he  despised  them  from  the  depths  of  his 
soul,  the  pretty  creatures,  who  sipped  his  iced  mocha,  and 
broke  off  the  buds  of  his  Malmaison  roses. 

The  roc's  egg  was  brought  to  him  one  heavily  raining 
day  by  a  lady  in  a  cab  in  whom  he,  well  used  though  he 
was  to  such  secret  visits,  had  difficulty  in  recognizing  the 
blonde  English  beauty.  It  had  been  now  in  his  possession 
for  four  years,  and  though  it  was  a  magnificent  object  such 
as  could  be  fully  appreciated  only  by  trained  eyes  like  his 
own,  he  began  to  get  tired  of  keeping  it  locked  up,  and 
unseen  by  any  eyes  save  his  own.  He  would  not  have  felt 
tired  if  she  had  paid  him  any  interest  on  his  loan ;  but  she 
had  never  paid  him  a  centieme.  She  had  not  even  paid 
anything  for  the  imitation  diamond  which  had  cost  him  a 
good  deal,  for  it  was  admirably  and  exquisitely  made  ;  it 
had  .been  worn  many  times  at  Courts  at  home  and  abroad, 
and  she  had  nearly  laughed  outright  more  than  once  at 
the  precautions  with  which  it  was  surrounded  when  it  was 
not  worn,  and  the  fire-proof  iron  safe  screwed  down  to  the 
floor  in  which  it  dwelt  when  it  was  not  the  envied  oc- 
cupant of  her  own  white  breast;  not  even  the  sharp 
suspicious  eyes  of  Cocky  had  ever  discerned  any  differ- 
ence in  it  from  that  of  the  great  gem  which  it  repre- 
sented. 

"  O'est  une  ingrdte"  said  Beaumont  to  himself  when  he 
saw  a  person  for  whom  he  had  done  so  much  flash  past  him 
on  the  boulevards  as  she  drove  to  Chantilly  or  La 
Marche  ;  and  he  hated  ingratitude. 

For  her  own  part,  having  given  him  the  great  jewel 
and  worn  the  substitute  successfully,  she  had  of  late 
dismissed  the  subject  from  her  mind  with  her  usual  happy 
insouciance.  But  now,  clauses  in  her  husband's  will  and 
in  that  of  his  father's,  had  recalled  it  to  her  harshly,  and 


THE  MASSARENES.  261 

with  insistence.  She  knew  that  the  jewels,  like  most  other 
things,  were  held  in  trust  for  the  little  rosy -cheeked  man 
in  the  further  corner  of  the  carriage;  and  that  sooner  or 
later  they  would  be  subjected  to  examination,  and  in  all 
probability  taken  out  of  her  custody.  She  had  no  longer 
even  the  rights  in  them  which  are  called  rights  of  user. 
So  much  she  had  gathered  as  she  had  listened  to  the  read- 
ing of  the  will ;  she  was  not  sure,  but  she  was  afraid,  and 
this  glacial  fear  gripped  her  light  and  courageous  heart, 
and  almost  made  its  pulses  stand  still. 

She  felt  almost  to  hate  the  unconscious  little  duke, 
tucked  up  in  a  bear-skin  with  his  legs  crossed  under  him 
in  a  corner  of  the  railway  carriage. 

Jack  could  not  get  out  of  his  mind  the  idea  of  poor 
Pappy  being  left  all  alone  in  that  dark  stone  place  under- 
ground;  "and  he  can't  even  smoke,"  he  thought,  with  a 
tender  pity  in  his  little  heart  for  the  man  who  had  so  often 
pinched  his  legs  and  tugged  at  his  hair.  His  mother  re- 
clined in  her  compartment  looking  very  white,  grave,  and 
angry,  in  her  sombre  clothes,  and  in  her  unwonted  taci- 
turnity ;  his  uncles  talked  to  each  other  of  things  that  he 
could  not  understand.  Gerry  was  sound  asleep ;  Jack 
watched  the  steam  fly  past  the  window-pane. 

"  It's  a  horrid  thing  to  be  deaded,"  he  thought.  "  Oh, 
I  hope, — I  hope, — I  do  hope, — Harry  won't  ever  be 
deaded." 

In  his  fervor  he  said  the  words  unconsciously  aloud. 

"  What  nonsense  are  you  talking  to  yourself  ?  "  said  his 
mother  angrily.  "  And  people  say  dead — not  deaded." 

Jack  shrank  into  his  corner  and  watched  the  wreaths  of 
steam  fly  on  against  the  dark. 

"What's  the  use  of  being  all  grandpa'  was?"  he 
thought.  "  Mammy  '11  always  be  bullying." 

Jack  had  seen  his  grandfather  omnipotent,  deferred  to 
by  everybody,  and  independent  in  all  actions ;  why  did 
not  these  privileges  descend  with  the  dukedom  to  himself? 

44  You're  a  minor,  Jack,"  one  of  his  aunts  had  said  to 
him,  but  the  word  had  only  confused  him.  He  thought  it 
meant  a  man  who  worked  underground  with  a  pickaxe 
and  a  safety-lamp  as  he  had  seen  them  drawn  in  instruct- 
ive books. 


262  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Harry'll  tell  me  all  I  can  do,"  he  thought ;  and  com- 
forted by  that  thought  he  fell  asleep  like  his  brother. 

"I  can  see  no  one,"  she  said  to  her  groom  of  the  cham- 
bers the  next  morning  in  Stanhope  Street. 

"No  exceptions,  your  Grace  ?"  asked  that  functionary, 
his  mind  reverting  to  Brancepeth. 

"  None,"  she  answered  curtly — "at  least  only  Gregge." 

This  gentleman  waited  on  her  and  bore  himself  with 
a  manner  that  expressed  his  wounded  feelings  at  not  hav- 
ing been  sent  for  into  the  county. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  she  said  impatiently.  "  They  don't 
like  you,  you  know,  because  you  give  me  good  advice,  and 
they  think  it  bad ;  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  rights  I 
have." 

"  I  was  not  at  the  reading  of  the  will,  your  Grace,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Gregge,  still  fall  of  his  own  wrongs. 

"  But  I  am  sure  you  know  all  about  it." 

"  I  have  heard  something  from  Messrs.  Wilton  and 
Somers,"  he  answered  cautiously,  naming  the  London 
solicitors  of  the  late  dukes. 

"  Well,  what  rights  have  I  ?  " 

"  Your  rights  are  limited,  madam  ;  exceedingly  limited. 
At  least  I  believe  so.  I  have  no  positive  information." 

Her  pretty  teeth  shut  tightly  together.  He  seemed  to 
her  less  polite  and  deferential  than  usual. 

"I  do  as  I  like  with  the  children,  don't  I?  "  she  asked 
angrily^ 

"  Subject  to  their  guardians'  approval." 

"That  is  to  say,  I  don't?" 

He  was  silent. 

She  beat  the  carpet  very  feverishly  with  her  foot. 

"I  keep  the  jewels,  of  course?" 

"  Your  own,  madam,  of  course." 

"  I  mean  the  Otterbourne  jewels ;  the  great  Indian 
diamond  ?  " 

"No,  madam.  I  fear  they  will  be  removed  from  your 
keeping.  You  have  no  right  of  user  over  them." 

Her  eyes  dilated  with  a  strange  expression. 

"  They  are  not  mine  ?     For  my  lifetime  ?  " 

Then,  alarmed  at  the  terror  and  fury  he  read  in  hei 
countenance,  he  hastened  to  add : 


THE  MAS8AEENE8.  263 

"  I  speak  as  amicus  curice ;  I  have  not  read  the  will ;  if 
you  wish  me  to  confer  with  the  late  duke's  legal  advisers 
I  will  do  so,  and  inform  you  more  exactly  of  your  posi- 
tion." 

She  assented  and  dismissed  him  with  scant  courtesy, 
being  a  prey  to  extreme  anxiety.  She  had  never  enter- 
tained any  doubt  as  to  her  jurisdiction  over  the  children 
and  the  jewels,  and  she  had  never  correctly  comprehended 
the  changed  position  in  which  the  death  of  her  husband 
places  a  woman  of  rank.  She  wrote  to  Beaumont  a  harsh 
and  imperious  letter  in  the  third  person,  ordering  him  to 
come  to  her  at  once  and  bring  her  property  with  him.  In 
her  eyes,  whatever  he  might  be  in  his  own,  he  was  only  a 
tradesman. 

Beaumont  knew  very  well  that  he  had  done  an  invalid 
thing,  and  that  the  signature  of  the  lady  locked  up  in  his 
safe  was  in  law  worth  nothing.  But  he  was  used  to  doing 
illegal  things,  he  always  found  they  answered  best.  The 
transaction  was  bond  fide  on  his  part,  and  the  jewel  was 
in  his  hands. 

Before  the  Duke  of  Otterbourne  would  lose  it,  and  let 
the  matter  be  brought  before  a  tribunal,  Beaumont  knew 
very  well  that  he  himself  should  be  repaid.  She  could 
not  repay  him,  her  husband  could  not,  but  the  family,  the 
head  of  the  family,  would.  So  he  had  always  reasoned. 
"  La  famille  !  C'est  le  magot  de  ces  gens  Za,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

The  death  of  the  Duke  of  Otterbourne  had  disgreeably 
surprised  him,  and  made  him  take  a  trip  across  the  Chan- 
nel, a  fidgety,  worrying  little  journey  which  he  at  all  times 
disliked,  for  he  was  never  comfortable  out  of  the  Rue  de 
la  Paix.  He  had  scarcely  reached  London  when  the  news- 
papers informed  him  of  the  illness,  and  in  a  few  days  of 
the  demise,  of  the  late  duke's  successor.  He  was  much 
too  well-bred  to  intrude  on  the  retreat  of  the  widowed 
duchess.  He  knew  that  the  retreat  would  not  last  very 
long.  He  amused  himself  by  going  to  see  the  imitation 
jewelery  of  Birmingham,  and  was  lost  in  wonder  that  a 
nation  which  has  the  art  of  India  under  its  eyes  can  out- 
rage heaven  and  earth  by  gewgaws  meet  for  savages. 
Then,  having  taken  precautions  so  as  to  be  informed  of 


264  THE  MASSARENES. 

all  which  might  be  done  with  the  Otterbourne  heirlooms, 
he  returned  to  the  home  of  his  heart  and  awaited  events. 
When  some  few  days  later  he  received  her  curt  summons 
he  was  extremely  astonished,  but  agreeably  so ;  he  con- 
cluded he  was  about  to  receive  his  money.  No  one,  he 
thought,  would  write  in  that  imperious  tone  who  was  not 
prepared  to  pay  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  So  he  reluc- 
tantly again  undertook  that  fidgeting  little  journey  of 
Calais-Douvres  which  the  wit  and  wisdom  of  two  nations 
are  content  to  leave  in  chaos  whilst  they  ridicule  the 
Chinese  for  not  making  good  roads. 

He  read  her  letter  again  on  the  steamer ;  it  was  so  very 
uncivil  that  it  could  only  mean  payment,  immediate  and 
complete.  Why  not?  The  Otterbourne  family  was  after 
all  a  very  illustrious  one. 


THE  MASSARENES.  265 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  POOR  papa  is  deaded,"  said  Jack  to  Boo  on  his  return  to 
town ;  in  the  tenderness  of  his  heart  he  was  beginning  to 
forget  the  dead  man's  pinches  and  to  pity  his  retirement 
from  the  world. 

"  I  know  ;  and  I  do  hate  black  so,"  said  Boo  twitching 
wrathfully  at  her  frock. 

"I'm  'fraid  he  must  be  so  dull  in  heaven,"  said  Jack 
seriously.  "  I  don't  think  they  let  them  race,  or  bet,  or 
do  anything  amusin'  there." 

He  wasn't  sure,  but  he  thought  he  had  heard  so. 

"  I  ought  to  have  gone  down  as  well  as  you,  instead  of 
Gerry,"  said  Boo,  who  had  been  exceedingly  aggrieved  at 
being  left  in  town  like  Baby. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Jack  with  much  dignity,  "you're  not  in 
the  succession ;  you're  a  female." 

"  A  female  ?  Me  ?  How  dare  you  ?  "  cried  Boo  in  a 
red  fury  of  wrath,  and  gave  him  a  resounding  box  on  the 
ear.  The  head  of  her  House  perceived  that  he  was  not  a 
hero  to  his  relatives,  and,  ignorant  of  the  French  proverb, 
turned  to  the  servants. 

"  I'm  Duke,  James,"  he  said  to  his  friend  the  hall- 
boy. 

"  So  I've  heard,  your  Grace." 

"  We'll  play  marbles  all  day  long,  James." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

"  Why  aren't  you  a  duke,  James  ?  " 

The  hall -boy  grinned. 

"  M.  le  Duo  ne  doit  pas  causer  avec  les  domestiques"  said 
the  French  governess,  and  took  hold  of  him  by  his  right 
ear  and  propelled  him  upstairs. 

"  Pourquoi  nong  pas  f  "  asked  Jack. 

"  Parcequils  sont  vos  inferieurs"  replied  the  French 
lady. 

Jack  did  like  the  reply,  it  sounded  harsh,  he  did  not  be- 
lieve it  was  true  ;  James  beat  him  at  marbles,  and  could 


266  THE  MASSARENES. 

make  popguns  and  cut  out  boats,  and  had  talents  and  vir- 
tues innumerable. 

Jack  loved  the  hall-boy,  and  had  once  got  into  dreadful 
disgrace  by  taking  his  place  and  answering  the  door,  to 
let  his  friend  go  round  the  corner. 

As  he  was  being  driven  upstairs  by  the  governess  he 
heard  the  voice  of  Brancepeth  arguing  with  a  footman ; 
the  young  man  was  insisting  that  they  should  let  him  in, 
and  the  servants  wrere  apologizing,  her  Grace's  orders  had 
been  positive.  Jack,  with  a  leap  like  a  chamois's,  rushed 
downstairs  and  leaped  into  his  friend's  arms. 

"  Well,  your  Grace,"  said  Brancepeth,  as  he  kissed  the 
child,  "  how  is  my  lord  duke,  eh  ?  " 

Brancepeth  had  not  been  allowed  to  go  down  to  Stag- 
hurst,  even  for  the  funeral ;  he  had  been  desired  to 
allege  military  duties  as  an  obstacle,  and  had  done  so, 
though  he  thought  it  brutally  uncivil  to  poor  Cocky. 

Jack  laughed  ;  his  rosy  face  was  bright  above  his  black 
jersey ;  but  he  tried  to  look  serious,  as  he  had  been  told 
that  he  ought  to  do. 

"  Mammy  says  we  must  not  laugh,"  he  said  sorrowfully. 
"  Come  in  here." 

He  pulled  his  favorite  by  the  hand  into  the  library. 

"  He's  deaded  you  know,"  he  whispered  solemnly. 

Brancepeth  nodded  ;  he  sat  down  on  a  low  chair,  took 
Jack  on  his  knee  and  kissed  him. 

"  He  won't  pinch  my  calves  any  more,"  said  Jack  with 
a  sense  of  relief. 

"  He  won't  do  anything  any  more,  poor  devil,"  said  his 
friend,  who  sincerely  mourned  him. 

Jack  was  silent,  trying  to  realize  the  position  and  fail- 
ing. "  Cuckoopint's  mine  now,  ain't  he?"  he  said  sud- 
denly. 

Cuckoopint  was  Cocky's  cob. 

"  Everything's  •  yours,  you  lucky  little  beggar,"  said 
Brancepeth.  "  But  don't  Hatter  yourself  they'll  let  you 
do  as  you  like.  Ronnie  and  the  bishop  between  'em  will 
keep  you  uncommon  tight." 

Jack  did  not  attend  to  this  foreboding :  his  mind  was 
full  of  Cuckoopint. 

"  Were   you   with  him   when   he   died,  Jack  ?  "  asked 


THE  MASSAEENES.  267 

Brancepeth,  who  felt  a  morbid  interest  in  Cockey's  end. 
Jack  nodded. 

"  Yes ;  he  said  '  damn ' ;  they  told  me  to  go  on  the  bed  and 
kiss  him,  but  he  wouldn't  ;  he  said  fc  damn.' ' 

"  Poor  devil ! "  sighed  Brancepeth  with  a  twinge  in  his 
conscience  like  neuralgia. 

"  Well,  you've  a  long  minority,"  he  added  as  he  kissed 
the  child  again.  "  Things'll  pull  round  and  get  straight 
in  all  these  years,  but  I'm  afraid  you'll  run  amuck  when 
you're  your  own  master,  you  naughty  little  beggar.  I 
don't  know  though,  I  think  you've  got  grit  in  you." 

Jack  meditated  profoundly.  Then  he  whispered  in  his 
elder's  ears,  "  If  I'm  all  that  grandpa'  was  mayn't  I  live 
without  mammy  somewhere  ?  Take  Cuckoopint  and  Boo 
and  live  with  'oo  ?  " 

Brancepeth  shook  his  head  with  a  sigh.  "  No,  Jack, 
you'll  never  live  with  me.  At  least—  "  he  paused  as  a 
certain  possibility  crossed  his  mind.  "  As  for  your 
mother,"  he  added,  "  well,  you'll  see  as  much  of  her  as 
she  wishes,  wherever  you  live.  You  won't  see  more." 

Jack's  face  puckered  up  ready  for  a  good  cry ;  his 
position  did  not  seem  to  him  changed  in  any  of  its  essen- 
tials. 

"  And  Cuckoopint  ?  "  he  said  piteously. 

"They'll  sell  Cuckoopint  probably,"  said  Brancepeth. 
"  But  I'll  try  and  buy  him  and  keep  for  you  ;  you're  not 
big  enough  to  ride  him  yet." 

Jack  threw  his  arms  about  his  friend's  throat. 

"  I  do  love  'oo,  Harry.     Oh,  I  do  love  'oo  !  " 
i      Brancepeth   pressed  the  boy  to  him  fondly ;  he  knew 
I  the  caress  was  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  Cuckoopint.     Still  it 
was  sweet  to  him. 

"  And  that  poor  devil  died  with  a  bad  word  in  his 
mouth,"  he  thought ;  and  something  as  like  remorse  as 
any  modern  person  can  feel  stirred  in  him. 

The  widowed  duchess  could  not  see  her  Parisian  credi- 
tor at  her  own  house.  It  would  be  known  that  he  came 
there,  and  would  look  very  odd  at  such  a  time,  and  might 
awaken  her  brother's  suspicions.  She  ordered  him  to 
meet  her  at  the  house  of  a  famous  Court  dressmaker,  a 
woman  who  had  been  often  useful  to  her  in  more  agree- 


2G8  THE  MASSARENES. 

able  appointments  and  more  interesting  embarrassments. 
She  went  out  alone  on  foot,  ostensibly  to  church,  deeply 
veiled  of  course,  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  Sunday  morning 
which  followed  her  husband's  funeral.  The  Court  dress- 
maker lived  in  a  private  house  in  Green  Street,  and  she 
had  not  far  to  go.  There,  in  a  perfectly  safe  seclusion, 
she  awaited  the  arrival  of  her  creditor. 

She  was  in  a  pretty  room  on  the  first  floor.  It  had  rose 
blinds  and  heavy  curtains,  and  had  been  furnished  in  sub- 
dued and  artistic  style  by  a  famous  firm  of  decorators ; 
she  knew  the  room  well,  and  it  had  always  been  at  her 
disposition.  Her  heart  had  throbbed  more  agreeably,  but 
never  so  nervously,  there,  as  it  did  this  Sunday  morning 
whilst  the  church  bells  jangled  and  boomed  in  her  ears, 
and  the  warm  steam  of  a  caloriftre  heating  a  foggy  atmos- 
phere, made  her  feel  sick  and  faint.  In  a  few  moments 
the  jeweler  was  announced — a  slender,  frail,  fair  man  of 
some  sixty-five  years  old,  who  saluted  her  gracefully,  and 
in  return  had  a  haughty  stare  which  revealed  to  him 
forcibly  that  he  was  a  tradesman  and  she  was  a  gentle- 
woman. Beaumont,  who  was  accustomed  to  different 
treatment,  said  to  himself  that  she  wanted  a  lesson.  Noth- 
ing costs  us  so  dear  in  this  world  as  our  pride,  and  if  we 
cannot  afford  to  purchase  the  privilege  of  its  indulgence  the 
world  will  make  us  smart  for  claiming  so  great  a  luxury. 

The  deep  black  of  her  attire,  so  trying  to  most  of  her 
sex,  only  made  fairer  her  skin,  made  brighter  her  hair  and 
her  eyes,  and  lent  a  richer  rose  to  her  lips ;  she  looked  ex- 
tremely well,  though  she  looked  cross  and  anxious  as  she 
saw  the  jeweler  enter. 

"  Good  morning,  Beaumont !  "  she  said  sharply.  "  Have 
you  brought  the  jewels  ?  " 

He  smiled :  the  question  seemed  to  him  of  an  extra- 
ordinary naivete  for  a  lady  who  knew  the  world  so  well. 

"  I  do  not  carry  jewels  in  my  pocket,  madame,"  he  re- 
plied. "  I  am  here  to  speak  of  yours." 

"  Didn't  you  get  my  letter  ?  "' 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  am  I  not  here  by  your  appointment  ?  " 

"But  I  ordered  you  to  bring  the  diamonds?"  she 
asked  with  that  brusque  authority  which  was  part  of  her 
being. 


TEE  MASSARENES.  269 

"I  came  to  speak  of  the  transaction,  madame,"  he  re- 
peated and  smiled. 

The  cool  audacity  of  her  manner  and  commands  diverted 
him.  He  perceived  that  she  had  no  intention  of  paying 
him.  "The  cocotte  has  never  been  born,"  he  thought, 
"who  could  hold  a  candle  to  a  great  lady  for  impudence." 

If  she  had  asked  him  to  sit  down  he  still  would  have 
refrained  from  troubling  her  ;  but  she  said  no  syllable  that 
was  civil;  she  continued  to  look  at  her  creditor  with 
haughty  impatience. 

"  Be  quick  about  what  you  have  to  say  then,"  she  re- 
marked; "I  can  only  stay  a  few  moments  here;  lam 
going  to  church." 

A  creditor,  if  deftly  treated  as  a  Buddha  of  power  and 
sanctity,  may  be  disarmed,  for,  although  a  creditor,  he  is 
human.  But  if  he  be  "  cheeked  "  and  treated  as  of  no  im- 
portance he  is  naturally  moved  to  use  his  thunderbolt  and 
assert  his  godhead.  Beaumont  sat  down  without  invita- 
tion or  permission,  and  she,  to  show  her  disgust  at  such 
familiarity,  rose  and  remained  standing. 

"  Madame,"  he  said  very  politely,  "  have  you  forgotten 
the  paper  which  you  signed  ?  " 

She  was  silent,  darting  azure  lightning  on  him  from  her 
eyes.  She  did  not  distinctly  remember  what  she  had 
signed.  She  had  not  very  clearly  understood  it  at  the 
time  of  signing ;  it  had  been  all  done  in  such  a  hurry, 
and  the  cab  had  been  waiting  for  her  in  the  rain,  and  she 
had  wanted  to  get  back  to  the  Bristol  unseen  and  dress 
for  a  dinner  at  the  English  Embassy,  and  the  time  to  do 
so  had  been  very  short.  Certainly  she  remembered  writ- 
ing her  name ;  but  the  words  above  her  name  she  did  not 
recall ;  it  was  more  than  four  years  ago. 

Beaumont  saw  that  she  had  forgotten. 

"  I  warned  you  of  the  importance  of  what  you  signed," 
he  said  politely.  "  If  you  desire  now  to  read  it  over " 

"  Is  that  what  I  signed  ?  "  she  said  eagerly ;  she  thought 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  get  it  away  from  him ;  he 
looked  very  weak  arid  small,  and  must,  she  thought,  be 
seventy  if  he  were  a  day. 

Beaumont  smiled. 

"  It  is  a  copy." 


270  THE  MASSARENES. 

Her  face  clouded ;  she  took  it  with  an  impatient  gesture 
and  read  its  clauses.  The  lines  were  few,  but  they  clearly 
stated  that  she  was  the  sole  and  lawful  owner  of  the  dia- 
mond and  transferred  it  to  the  keeping  of  the  jeweler 
until  such  time  as  he  should  be  repaid  in  full,  capital  and 
interest. 

"  Well,  madame  ?  "  said  Beaumont,  having  waited  for 
five  long  minutes,  during  which  she  stood  looking  out  of 
the  window,  her  foot  irritably  beating  on  the  carpet. 

"  What  is  there  to  say  ?  "  she  replied  bluntly,  her  brain 
was  less  clear  than  usual.  "  I  can't  pay  you,  if  that's  what 
you  want." 

Beaumont  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  I  conclude  I  have  the  honor  of  being  your  Grace's 
first  creditor,  or  you  would  have  learned  by  painful  ex- 
perience that  it  is  not  well  to  be  impolite  to  creditors. 
The  situation  is  changed  since  you  signed  that  little  memo- 
randum. I  was  content  to  wait  whilst  the  good  Duke  of 
Otterbourne  was  living:  but  he  is  dead,  and  I  am  indis- 
posed to  wait,  and  if  you  cannot  pay  me  I  must  see  who 
will." 

"  You  beast !  "  muttered  Mouse  between  her  pearl  like 
teeth. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am  a  beast,"  said  Beaumont  meekly. 
"At  least,  not  more  so  than  most  men.  I  took  you  at 
your  word,  madame,  and  it  appears  that  your  word  was — 
was  not  entirely  to  be  depended  upon.  It  appears  that 
the  jewel  is  an  heirloom  ;  it  goes  to  your  little  boy  under 
settlement  in  trust.  So  I  am  informed  by  those  competent 
to  know." 

She  stood  with  her  profile  turned  toward  him,  and  con- 
tinued to  look  out  of  the  window  at  the  house  opposite. 

"  If  it  is  my  son's  you  can't  claim  it,"  she  said  sullenly. 
"  You  knew  well  enough  at  the  time  it  wasn't  mine.  You 
only  pretended  to  believe  that  it  was.  You  did  an  illegal 
thing  when  you  lent  me  the  money ;  and  you  know  you 
can't  go  into  any  Court  about  it.  My  husband  was  alive 
then ;  my  signature  was  not  worth  a  farthing,  you  know 
that ! " 

Beaumont  gazed  at  her  in  admiration  for  her  boldness, 
in  compassion  for  her  temerity  and  want  of  worldly  wisdom. 


THE  MASSARENES.  271 

46 1  have  done  business  sometimes,  madame,  in  Paris," 
he  said  softly,  "  with,  persons  of  your  sex  who  are  not  con- 
sidered, there,  pure  enough  to  sit  beside  you  in  the  tribune 
at  Chantilly,  or  at  the  Institute,  or  at  the  Chambers.  But 
amongst  those  horizontals  I  never  knew  one  quite  of  your 
force.  Je  vous  enfais  mes  compliments" 

Angry  blood  flew  into  the  fair  cheeks  of  his  debtor;  her 
blue  eyes  flashed  like  stormy  summer  skies;  her  hand 
clenched  till  her  rings  cut  into  the  skin. 

"  You  dare  to  insult  me  because  my  lord  is  dead ! " 

Cocky  in  memory  really  appeared  to  her,  at  this  mo- 
ment, as  a  very  tower  of  strength. 

Beaumont  made  a  little  gesture  of  smiling  protestation. 

"  Oh,  madame,  if  your  lord  were  living  he  would  not 
make  much  difference  to  me  in  this  matter,  or  to  any 
action  of  your  creditors.  But  he  would  certainly  have 
apprehended  the  situation  more  quickly  than  you  do." 

"  You  are  an  insolent !  " 

She  would  have  reached  to  touch  the  button  of  the 
electric  bell,  but  Beaumont  interposed. 

"  Do  not  make  a  scandal,  duchesse ;  I  shall  not,  if  you 
do  not  press  me  too  far.  I  am  not  your  enemy.  I  never 
expose  women  if  I  can  help  it.  Nature  made  them  dis- 
honest ;  jewels  and  money  are  to  them  what  cherries  and 
apples  are  to  schoolboys.  That  is  why  they  are  so  much 
better  shut  up  in  harems.  However,  I  came  for  strict 
business ;  let  us  limit  ourselves  to  it.  You  say  I  cannot 
go  into  a  tribunal.  You  have  relied  upon  that  fact.  But 
it  is  a  rotten  staff  to  lean  on ;  it  is  not  a  fact.  I  both 
can  and  will  go  into  any  number  of  tribunals  about  this 
matter.  They  may  nonsuit  me.  I  may,  perhaps,  lose 
both  the  diamond  and  the  money ;  but  I  have  plenty  of 
money  and  no  children,  and  it  will  amuse  me,  madame,  to 
see  you  cross-examined.  It  will  not  amuse  you." 

She  stared  fixedly  at  the  windows  of  the  opposite  house, 
and  observed,  as  people  do  observe  extraneous  matters  in 
moments  of  horrible  agitation,  that  the  lace  curtains  to 
them  were  very  soiled.  Her  heart  heaved  under  the  crape 
fichu  of  her  bodice,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  only  by  great 
effort  that  she  controlled  herself  from  some  bodily  assault 
upon  him. 


272  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  What  a  godsend  for  the  illustrated  press  such  a  trial 
would  be  !  "  he  continued,  in  quiet,  amused  tones.  "But 
it  would  be  disagreeable  to  you,  because  those  papers 
disfigure  so  the  pretty  people  whom  they  pretend  to  rep- 
resent." 

"You  would  never  dare  to  go  to  law !  "  she  interrupted 
in  a  hoarse,  fierce  voice.  "  You  would  not  dare !  You 
would  be  punished  yourself!  " 

u  I  should  be  punished,  possibly,  by  losing  the  money. 
They  would  nonsuit  me,  but  I  think  they  would  make  you 
pay  my  costs.  But  as  I  have  said,  I  do  not  mind  losing 
the  money ;  I  have  a  good  deal  and  no  children,  and  I  am 
old " 

"  Well,  then,  why  make  this  hideous  fuss?  " 

Beaumont  smiled. 

"  Why  not  make  you,  madame,  a  free  gift  of  the  money 
and  the  interest?  Allez  done!  You  ought  to  be  too  proud 
to  dream  of  taking  a  present  from  a  tradesman.  If  I  were 
a  young  man  I  might  — on  conditions — but  I  am  old,  and 
a  beautiful  woman  is  not  much  more  to  me  than  an  ugly 
one,  alas !  Besides,  you  have  been  very  rude,  duchesse. 
No  one  should  be  so  rude  as  that  who  does  not  stand  on  a 
solid  bank  balance." 

She  turned  her  head  over  her  shoulder  and  flashed  a 
scathing  glance  upon  him. 

"  How  much  longer  are  you  going  to  prose  on  in  this 
way  ?  I  want  to  go  out." 

Beaumont  shook  his  head.  "  You  will  not  learn  wis- 
dom? You  are  wrong,  madame.  Twist  a  tiger's  tail, 
laugh  at  an  anarchist,  and  put  nitro-glycerine  in  your 
dressing-bag,  but  never,  ah,  never  be  rude  to  anyone  who 
has  you  in  his  power." 

"In  your  power?     I?     In  yours?     You  are  mad." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  am  entirely  sane.  Saner  than  you,  madame; 
for  you  do  not  seem  to  understand  that  you  have  done  a 
very  ugly  thing,  a  vulgar  thing  even ;  what  is  called  in 
English,  I  believe,  a  first-class  misdemeanor,  for  you  ob- 
tained a  very  large  sum  by  false  representation." 

She  changed  color ;  she  was  intelligent  and  she  did  see 
her  conduct  in  the  light  in  which  twelve  London  jurymen 
would  be  likely  to  see  it,  and  also  in  the  shape  in  which 


THE  MASSAEENES.  273 

the  Radical  press  would  be  certain  to  present  it  to  their 
public. 

Beaumont  relented  a  little.  A  man  may  be  too  old  to 
fully  appreciate  beauty,  but  he  is  always  kinder  to  a  pretty 
woman  than  to  a  plain  one.  Moreover  he  had  no  real  in- 
clination to  figure  in  the  law  courts  himself,  though  to 
punish  her  he  was  prepared  to  take  her  into  them. 

"  Is  it  possible,  madame,"  he  said  with  hesitation, 
"  that  all  the  great  people  you  belong  to  cannot  arrange 
this  small  matter  for  you  without  forcing  me  to  go  to  ex- 
tremes? The  magnificent  English  aristocracy." 

"The  magnificent  English  aristocracy,"  she  repeated 
with  unspeakable  scorn,  "  who  are  coal-owners,  corn-fac- 
tors, horse-dealers,  game-vendors,  shop-owners,  tradesmen, 
every  man  Jack  of  them,  are  most  of  them  bankrupt 
tradesmen,  my  good  Beaumont !  They  are  obliged  to  ally 
themselves  with  tradesmen  who  aren't  bankrupt — like  you 
— to  keep  their  heads  above  water.  The  great  families 
with  whom  I  am  allied,  as  you  expressed  it,  couldn't,  I 
believe,  amongst  them  all  raise  a  thousand  guineas  in 
solid  coin." 

"  But  you  came  to  me  for  twelve  thousand,"  thought 
Beaumont ;  aloud  he  merely  said,  "  But  monsieur  your 
brother  ?  Surely  he " 

A  shiver  ran  over  her  from  head  to  foot.  She  would 
rather,  she  thought,  face  the  Middlesex  jury  than  tell  this 
tale  to  Ronald. 

"My  brother  has  all  the  copy-book  virtues,"  she  an- 
swered sharply.  "  He  would  sell  his  shirt  to  pay  you  if 
you  told  him  this  story,  but  if  he  hasn't  got  a  shirt  ?  " 

"You  speak  figuratively,  I  presume?  " 

"  Figuratively  ?  I  mean  what  I  say.  Well,  of  course 
he's  got  shirts  to  his  back  ;  but  that  is  pretty  well  all  he 
has  got.  And  he  is  guardian  to  the  boy,  to  all  the  children." 

"  I  understand." 

He  saw  in  what  a  position  Hurstmanceaux  would  be 
placed  between  his  duty  to  his  wards  and  his  sentiment 
for  his  sister  if  the  knowledge  of  what  had  been  done 
with  the  roc's  egg  came  before  him.  "  But  if  he  be  a  poor 
man  it  would  be  no  use  to  worry  him,"  thought  Beaumont, 
who  was  keenly  practical,  and  who,  in  this  matter,  merely 
18 


271  THE  MASSARENES. 

\vanted  to  get  his  money  back,  and  to  be  safely  out  of 
what  he  knew  was  not  a  very  creditable  position  for  him- 
self, since  the  family  would  naturally  argue  that  he 
should  not  have  taken  Lady  Kenilworth's  unsupported 
word  in  a  matter  of  so  much  importance. 

"• Every  one  knows  the  high  character  of  Lord  Hurst- 
man  ceaux,"  he  said,  to  gain  time  for  his  own  reflections. 
Mouse  repressed  a  rude  exclamation ;  she  was  so  utterly 
sick  of  Ronnie's  character.  A  brother  who  had  known 
how  to  do  all  the  things  that  Cocky  had  used  to  do,  and 
would  have  put  her  up  to  doing  them,  would  have  been 
so  much  more  useful  at  the  moment.  She  felt  that  she 
had  not  drunk  at  the  fountain  of  knowledge  during  her 
husband's  lifetime  as  she  ought  to  have  done.  For  a  per- 
son who  was  not  hampered  by  scruples  she  was  most 
blamably  ignorant  about  the  ins  and  outs  and  hooks  and 
crooks  of  left-handed  financing. 

Beaumont  waited  in  polite  silence.  He  was  not  a  hard 
or  harsh  man  and  he  was  not  insensible  to  the  purity  of 
her  profile  as  she  stood  sideways  against  the  window  ;  lie 
saw  that  she  was  genuinely  alarmed  and  genuinely  power- 
less ;  the  folded  crape  which  went  crossways  over  her 
bosom  heaved  with  her  deep  drawn  hurried  breathing. 

"  Have  you  no  friend  ?  "  he  said  at  last  very  softly  and 
with  a  world  of  meaning  in  the  tone. 

She  changed  countenance ;  she  could  not  pretend  to 
misunderstand  his  meaning. 

"  Friends  have  more  sympathy  than  relatives,"  he  added 
in  the  same  meditative  manner.  "  It  is  true,  madame, 
that  your  dilemma  is  not  in  itself  interesting ;  it  resem- 
bles too  much  actions  which  receive  unlovely  names  when 
in  a  lower  class  than  yours,  still  a  beautiful  woman  can 
always  persuade  the  weaker  sense  to  be  blind  to  her 
errors ;  at  least  until  those  errors  have  been  proclaimed 
in  print,  so  that  all  who  run  may  read  them." 

He  took  a  natural  and  not  a  very  malignant  vengeance 
in  his  words,  but  to  her  he  seemed  a  very  Mephistopheles 
torturing  her  with  every  refined  devihy. 

And  she  was  insulted  and  she  could  not  resent !  She 
could  not  ring  for  her  servants  and  have  this  man  turned 
into  the  street. 


THE  MASSARENES.  275 

The  twelve  thousand  pounds  had  melted  like  morning 
mist.  She  could  scarcely  remember  what  they  had  gone 
for ;  but  the  bitter  insult  remained,  would  remain,  she 
thought,  with  her  for  ever. 

He  rose  and  stood  before  her.     "  Well  ?  "  he  said  gently. 

44  You  have  a  right  to  your  money,  I  suppose,"  she  said 
sullenly  between  her  set  teeth.  "  I  have  no  notion  on 
earth  how  to  get  you  a  farthing,  but  if  you  will  wait  a 
month  and  not  speak  to  my  brother  in  the  interval,  I  will 
• — I  will  see  what  I  can  do." 

Beaumont  bowed. 

"  I  will  wait  six  months  and  I  will  speak  to  no  one. 
But  if  at  the  end  of  six  months  I  do  not  receive  all,  I 
shall  speak,  with  pain,  madame,  but  inevitably  not  to 
your  brother  but  to  the  world." 

"  I  understand,"  she  said  haughtily.  "  You  will  do  your 
worst.  Well,  never  enter  my  presence  again,  that  is  all ; 
and  leave  it  now  this  moment." 

Beaumont  smiled  with  admiration  and  regret  combined. 

"You  are  very  unwise,  inadame.  If  you  had  not  been 
rude  to  me  I  would  have  accorded  you  a  year.  Mais  on 
chasse  de  race" 

She  knew  that  it  was  unwise  to  be  so  insolent,  but  she 
could  not  have  made  herself  polite  to  him  to  save  her  life. 
He  punished  her  for  having  tricked  him  and  flouted  her. 
He  was  a  very  rich  man  and  she  had  offended  him. 

She  saw  her  mistake,  but  she  would  not  have  resisted 
repeating  it  if  he  had  come  back  into  the  room.  Women 
always  bring  temper  into  business,  and  that  is  why  they 
fail  in  it  so  frequently,  for  those  who  do  not  bring  temper 
bring  sentiment,  and  the  one  is  as  ruinous  as  the  other. 

She  had  a  rapid  imagination  ;  she  saw  before  her  the 
crowded  court,  the  witness-box  where  prevarication  was 
of  no  use,  all  her  dearest  friends  with  their  lorgnom  lifted, 
the  bench  of  the  scribbling  reporters,  the  correspondents 
of  the  illustrated  papers  making  their  sketches  furtively 
and  staring  at  her  as  she  had  stared  at  people  in  causes 
ctlebres ;  she  saw  it  all,  even  the  portraits  of  herself  which 
would  appear  in  those  woodcuts  of  artistic  journals  which 
would  make  Helen's  self  hideous  and  Athene's  self  gro- 
tesque. 


276  THE  MASSARENES. 

She  saw  it  all — all  the  huge  headings  in  the  posters  and 
papers,  all  the  staring  eyes,  all  the  commiserating  censure, 
all  the  discreet  veiled  enjoyment  of  her  acquaintances,  all 
the  rancid  acrid  virulence  of  the  rejoicing  Radical  press. 

She  imagined  that  Beaumont  would  not  get  his  money 
easily  because  she  knew  something  about  the  risks  run 
by  those  who  lend  on  an  imperfect  title,  as  to  minors  or 
to  women ;  but  she  had  seen  in  his  regard  that  he  would 
not  mind  losing  any  amount  of  money  if  he  had  his  re- 
venge on  her  in  putting  her  into  court. 

Actually,  Beaumont  was  by  no  means  a  revengeful,  nor 
even  a  hard  man,  arid  a  very  little  diplomacy  would  have 
made  him  favorable  to  her. 

She  hated  him  more  intensely  than  she  had  ever  hated 
anyone.  For  in  the  first  place  he  had  done  her  a  favor, 
and  in  the  second  place  she  had  done  him  a  wrong — a 
mixture  which  naturally  produces  the  strongest  hatred. 
She  knew  that,  despite  his  courtesy,  she  had  nothing  more 
to  hope  from  him ;  that  he  would  have  his  money  back 
again,  or  he  would  make  the  transaction  public. 

Public  s}rmpathy  would  be  entirely  with  him  against 
herself.  Even  that,  however,  seemed  to  her  less  horrible 
than  the  fact  that  Ronald  would  know  what  she  had  done. 
At  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  was  not  very  brave;  she 
could  hector  and  bully,  and  command,  and  she  had  that 
share  in  the  physical  courage  of  her  race  which  took  her 
unflinching  over  a  bullfinch  in  the  shires.  But  she  had 
not  the  moral  courage  which  would  allow  that  punish- 
ment was  just  and  bear  it  calmly.  It  was  probable  that 
Ronald  and  her  brothers-in-law  would  never  let  the  mat- 
ter come  to  a  trial,  that  they  would  get  the  money  be- 
tween them  together  somehow,  though  they  were  all  as 
poor  as  Job ;  but  to  have  the  matter  brought  before  these 
prejudiced  persons  seemed  to  her  worse  than  the  law 
court  itself.  Ronald  she  dreaded,  the  Ormes  she  detested, 
and  her  sisters'  husbands  she  thought  the  most  odious 
prigs  in  the  world ;  to  come  before  a  family  council  of 
this  sort  would  be  more  urisuppor table  than  the  law  court 
itself,  which  would  at  least  contain  an  element  of  excite- 
ment, and  in  which  her  personal  appearance  would  be 
sure  to  rouse  some  feeling  in  her  favor.  To  that  personal 


THE  MASSAEENES.  277 

fascination  her  brother  and  her  brothers-in-law  were  at 
all  times  insensible. 

"  Some  women  have  men  belonging  to  them  who  are  of 
some  use,"  she  thought  bitterly,  "  but  all  the  men  I  have 
anything  to  do  with  are  paupers  and  prigs.  What  is  a 
family  made  for  if  it  is  not  to  pull  one  through  awkward 
places,  and  follow  one  with  a  second  horse  ?  " 

She  hated  her  family  fiercely.  It  seemed  to  her  that  it 
was  all  their  fault  that  she  had  been  placed  in  such  a 
dreadful  dilemma.  If  there  was  one  thing  more  sure  than 
another,  she  knew  that  it  was  the  dead  certainty  that 
everybody  in  her  world  were  as  poor  as  rats,  unless  they 
were  men  of  business  who  did  not  properly  belong  to  that 
world  at  all.  It  was  wonderful  how  soon  you  come  to  the 
end  of  a  man's  resources  !  No  one  knew  that  better  than 
herself.  As  for  the  bigwigs  who  look  so  swell  and  im- 
posing to  the  classes  which  know  nothing  about  them,  she 
was  but  too  well  aware  of  the  carking  cares,  the  burdened 
lands,  the  desperate  devices  which  sustained  their  magnifi- 
cent appearances  as  the  rotten  timbers  of  a  doomed  ship 
may  support  a  gilded  figure-head. 

44  By  the  time  Jack's  thirty  years  old  the  whole  rotten 
thing  will  be  gone  like  a  smashed  egg,T'  she  thought,  with 
a  certain  pleasure  in  reflecting  that  all  the  wearisome  and 
impertinent  precautions  which  Jack's  guardians  took  to 
shelter  his  interests  would  be  of  no  avail  for  him  in  the  long 
run  against  the  rapidly  rising  tide  of  English  socialism. 


278  THE  MASSAKENES. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SHE  remained  in  London  May  and  June.  Of  course  it 
was  deadly  dull,  but  people  came  to  dine  with  her;  she 
could  dine  with  her  very  intimate  friends ;  and  men  were 
in  and  out  all  day  long  from  the  Commons  and  the  club 
and  the  guard-rooms  ;  and  she  made  a  lovely  picture  in  her 
floating  crape  garments,  cut  a  little  low  round  the  throat 
en  bebe,  to  show  its  white  and  slender  beauty.  Everyone 
felt  bound  to  do  their  best  to  console  her,  and  the  task 
was  a  pleasant  one  even  to  her  own  sex,  for  her  house,  in 
a  subdued  discreet  manner,  was  always  full  of  agreeable 
persons,  and  softly  buzzing  with  the  latest  news. 

When  she  drove  in  the  park  with  her  whole  equipage 
turned  into  mourning,  she  had  one  or  other  of  her  golden- 
haired  children  always  with  her,  and  the  spectacle  was 
one  which  especially  touched  the  policemen  at  the  cross- 
ings, the  old  apple-women  at  the  corners,  the  workingmen 
eating  their  bread  and  cheese  on  the  benches,  and  all  that 
good-natured,  credulous,  purblind  throng  which  creates 
popular  opinion. 

"  Our  public  men  don't  make  up  enough,"  she  thought, 
seeing  the  effect  which  she  had  on  the  multitude.  "Napo- 
leon's white  horse  and  Boulanger's  black  one  did  half  their 
business  for  them.  The  public  should  always  be  governed 
through  its  eyes  and  its  appetites  ;  our  leaders  of  it  appeal 
to  its  mind — a  non-existent  entity." 

Black  was  very  becoming  to  her.  It  is  the  surest  of 
consolations  to  have  a  dazzlingly  fair  skin  which  crape 
adorns.  Still  death  in  the  house  is  always  tiresome  ;  there 
are  so  many  pleasant  things  which  we  cannot  do.  On  the 
whole  she  thought  it  would  have  been  better  if  Cocky  had 
lived  some  little  time  longer. 

Cocky's  death  had  happened  at  an  awkward  moment. 
The  London  season  was  irrevocably  lost  to  her.  All  her 
new  gowns  must  remain  shut  up  in  their  cases.  There 
was  nowhere  in  the  known  world  (of  society)  where  she 


TH&  MASSARENES.  279 

could  by  any  possibility  dance  and  laugh  and  flirt  and  play 
cards,  and  go  to  races,  and  do  theatres,  and  sup  at  restau- 
rants, and  generally  amuse  herself  for  the  next  six  months. 
She  did  not  care  for  conventionality,  but  there  are  things 
which  no  well-bred  person  can  do ;  observances  which  the 
mere  usage  of  the  world  enforces  as  it  does  the  wearing  of 
clothes,  or  of  shoes  and  stockings. 

She  was  wholly  unconscious  of  the  benevolent  intentions 
which  Cocky  had  entertained  toward  her ;  she  had  never 
dreamed  that  he  would  think  of  causing  a  cause  cetebre  in 
connection  with  her. 

She  wished  devoutly  that  he  had  lived  for  a  year  or  two 
after  his  succession.  The  tutelage  of  Ronald  was  a  pros- 
pect which  appalled  her. 

She  knew  that  Ronald,  however  generous  with  his  own, 
would  be  a  very  dragon  in  defence  of  his  ward's  posses- 
sions ;  and  the  little  duke's  minority  would  be  an  exceed- 
ingly long  one.  From  all  power  she  had  herself  been  care- 
fully and  mercilessly  excluded  by  all  the  provisions  alike 
of  her  husband  and  of  his  father.  The  terms  of  the  wills 
had  been  sufficiently  explained  to  her  to  leave  her  no  doubt 
in  that  respect.  Her  courage  was  high  and  her  careless- 
ness was  great;  but  both  quailed  at  the  idea  of  many 
matters  which  would  inevitably  now  come  under  her 
brother's  eyes. 

Cocky  had  been  a  bore ;  but  you  could  always  shut 
Cooky's  eyes  and  his  mouth  too  if  you  had  a  twenty-pound 
note  to  give  him ;  and  he  was  never  in  the  least  degree 
curious  whence  it  came. 

Cocky  had  had  many  defects,  but  he  had  been  at  times 
a  very  convenient  person ;  she  had  wished  him  dead  very 
often,  but  now  that  he  was  really  dead  she  was  rather 
sorry.  She  could  not  now  even  take  any  of  that  lace  away 
from  Staghurst;  it  would  all  be  locked  up  again  to  wait 
twenty  years  for  Jack's  wife. 

She  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  doing  wrong,  but  she 
was  keenly  afraid  of  being  found  out,  and  especially  of 
being  found  out  by  her  brother.  She  knew  very  well  that 
Ronald's  toleration  of  her  and  affection  for  her  were 
entirely  based  on  the  fact  that  she  had  in  a  great  degree 
always  succeeded  in  blindfolding  him. 


280  THE  MA8SABENE8. 

He  knew  her  to  be  reckless,  imprudent,  and  madly  ex- 
travagant, bat  he  thought  her  innocent  in  other  ways,  and 
compromised  by  her  husband. 

Oh,  the  support  that  Cocky  had  been !  She  did  feel 
genuine  sorrow  for  his  loss.  To  lose  your  scapegoat,  your 
standing  apology,  your  excuse  for  everything,  is  worse  than 
to  lose  your  jewel-box,  especially  when  it  has  only  paste 
copies  of  your  jewels  in  it.  She  would  really  have  liked 
to  have  had  Cocky  survive  a  few  years  as  Duke  of  Otter- 
bourne.  They  would  not  have  had  much  money,  but  they 
would  have  had  such  quantities  of  credit  that  their  want 
of  actual  money  would  scarcely  have  been  felt.  They 
would  have  sold  everything  which  settlement  would  have 
allowed  them  to  sell,  and  very  probably  found  means  even 
to  break  the  entail. 

She  was  wholly  unaware  that  the  very  first  use  he  would 
have  made  of  his  accession  would  have  been  to  drag  her 
into  the  glare  of  that  transpontine  melodrama  which  is 
played  in  the  Court  of  Probate  and  Divorce.  In  the  glare 
of  his  dying  eyes  she  had  indeed  recognized  hatred,  but 
she  had  not  known  that  such  hatred  would  have  taken  its 
worst  vengeance  on  her  had  he  lived. 

She  did  not  know  that  fate,  often  so  favorable  to  her, 
had  never  done  her  so  kind  a  turn  as  when  it  had  made 
him  catch  that  cold  at  his  father's  grave  in  the  bitter  east 
winds  of  the  March  morning.  He  had  been  something  to 
complain  of,  to  fret  about,  to  quarrel  with  ;  at  his  door  she 
could  lay  any  responsibility  she  chose,  and  he  had  been 
often  useful  in  a  great  strait  through  the  ingenuity  and 
unscrupulousness  of  his  devices.  Then  she  had  cordially 
detested  him,  and  that  sentiment  alone  had  something 
exhilarating  about  it  like  a  glass  of  bitters. 

And  yet  again  it  had  been  the  existence  of  Cocky  which 
had  made  Harry  interesting.  Now  that  it  could  become 
quite  proper  for  her  to  annex  Harry,  in  the  manner  dear 
to  Mrs.  Grundy,  he  lost  a  great  deal  of  his  attraction.  He 
fell  suddenly  in  value  like  a  depreciated  currenc}^. 

After  the  first  moments  of  awe  which  the  presence  of 
death  causes  to  the  most  indifferent  person,  her  first  re- 
flection had  been  that  she  could  now  marry  him. 

But  her  second  and  wiser  was  that  it  would  be  ridicu- 


THE  MASSARENES.  281 

lous  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  Poor  Harry  was  as  poor 
as  the  traditional  church  mouse.  The  little  he  had  ever 
been  worth  had  been  squeezed  out  of  him  by  Cocky  and 
herself.  She  wanted  money,  an  endless  amount  of  money. 
Women  of  the  world  want  money  as  orchids  want  moist- 
ure. They  cannot  live  except  with  their  feet  ankle  deep 
in  a  pactalus.  Money,  or  its  equivalent  credit,  is  the 
necessity  of  their  existence.  Her  existence,  hitherto,  how- 
ef^er  brilliant  on  the  surface,  had  been  little  better  than  a 
series  of  shifty  expedients.  She  had  danced  her  shawl 
dance  on  the  brink  of  exposure  and  bankruptcy.  What  was 
the  use  of  marrying  a  man  with  whom  the  same,  or  still  worse, 
embarrassments  would  have  perpetually  to  be  endured  ? 

At  no  time  had  she  been  ready  to  throw  herself  away 
on  Harry.  She  had  been  for  several  years  fonder  of  him 
than  she  had  ever  supposed  herself  capable  of  being  of 
anyone.  When  he  had  showed  the  least  inclination  for 
any  other  woman,  her  sentiment  for  him  had  become  vio- 
lent and  ferocious  in  its  sense  of  wronged  ownership. 
But  to  marry  him  would  be,  she  knew — she  had  always 
known — a  grotesque  mistake. 

It  would  be  one  of  those  follies  which  are  never  for- 
given by  Fate.  Harry  was  no  more  meant  for  marriage, 
she  thought,  as  she  sat  alone  in  her  morning  room,  than 
that  wheelbarrow  was  meant  for  use.  It  was  a  charming 
wheelbarrow  in  satin,  scarlet,  and  green,  with  gilded 
wheels  and  handles  ;  filled  with  cherries,  plumbs,  currants, 
and  strawberries  made  by  the  first  bonbon-makers  of 
Paris,  and  sent  at  Easter,  the  week  before  the  old  duke 
died.  One  might  just  as  well  roll  that  barrow  over  the 
stones  to  Covent  Garden  market,  as  think  of  marriage 
with  Harry. 

If  she  had  been  rich  she  would  not  have  married  again 
at  all ;  men  were  crochetty  worrying  bores  whenever  you 
saw  much  of  them,  but  to  go  on  like  this  under  Ronald's 
and  the  Ormes's  tutelage,  and  next  to  nothing  to  amuse 
herself  with,  was  wholly  out  of  the  question. 

A  vindictive  dislike  rose  up  in  her  against  Jack.  He 
was  everything  and  she  was  nothing.  This  absurd  rosy- 
faced  monkey  was  lord  of  all*;  this  little  curly-headed  imp 
in  his  man-o'-war  suit  was  owner  of  everything  and  she 


282  THE  MASSARENES. 

of  nothing,  or  of  next  to  nothing  ;  she  felt  an  unreasonable 
and  most  unjust  impatience  at  the  very  sight  of  his  round 
laughing  face  and  his  sunny  Correggio  curls  ;  and  he 
avoided  her  as  a  puppy  avoids  a  person  who  kicks  it  or 
scowls  at  it. 

"  Can't  mammy  be  nasty  ?     Oh,  can't  she  !  "  he  said  to 
his  confidant  Harry,  who  frowned  and  answered  : 
i      "  It's  blackguard  of  her  if  she's  nasty  to  you." 

Harry  himself  was  dull.  On  due  consideration  of  his 
position  he  had  felt  no  doubt  whatever  that  he  would 
have  to  marry  Jack's  mother. 

Cocky  had  been  his  best  friend  ;  had  Cocky's  duration 
of  life  depended  on  him  the  Seventh  Duke  of  Otter- 
bourne  would  have  seen  a  green  old  age. 

"Bother  it  all,"  thought  the  poor  fellow,  "  and  T  must 
say  something  about  it  to  her,  I  suppose.  Oh,  damn  it ! 
It's  telling  a  man  in  Newgate  that  he  must  settle  the  day 
for  his  own  hanging  !  " 

His  world  supposed  him  still  to  be  very  much  in  love 
with  Jack's  mother,  but  the  prospect  of  being  wedded  to 
her  appalled  him.  "  My  granny  always  said  she  would 
end  in  doing  it,"  he  thought,  recalling  the  prophetic  wis- 
dom of  the  aged  Lady  Luce. 

Men  as  a  rule  are  riot  remarkable  for  tact,  especially  in 
personal  matters  which  touch  on  the  affections,  and  he 
had  less  of  that  valuable  instinct  than  most  people.  Un- 
aware that  the  lady  of  his  destiny  had  mentally  weighed 
him  in  the  balance  with  the  satin  wheelbarrow,  and  found 
him  wanting  like  the  wheelbarrow  in  solidity,  he  was  tor- 
mented by  the  feeling  that  he  ought  to  speak  to  her  on 
the  subject  and  the  indefinable  reluctance  which  held  him 
back  from  doing  so. 

The  position  of  a  man  who  has  to  marry  a  lady  with 
whom  his  name  has  long  been  associated  before  his  world 
can  never  be  agreeable.  He  is  conscious  of  paying  over 
again  in  gold  for  what  he  has  long  ago  bought  with  paper. 
He  is  aware  that  lookers-on  laugh  in  their  sleeve. 

It  requires  the  beaux  restes  of  a  veritable  passion,  the 
perennial  charm  of  an  undying  sympathy,  to  make  the 
most  loyal  of  lovers  accept  without  flinching  so  conspicuous 
and  questionable  a  position. 


THE  MASSARENES.  283 

To  her,  it  is  triumph  as  to  the  master  builder  when  the 
gilded  vane  crowns  the  giddy  height  of  the  steeple.  She 
shows  that  she  has  kept  her  man  well  in  hand,  and  ridden 
him  with  science  to  the  finish.  Beside,  the  shyest  of 
women  always  likes  what  compromises  and  compliments 
her. 

But  the  masculine  mind  is  differently  constituted  ;  it 
sincerely  dislikes  being  talked  about,  it  still  more  dislikes 
to  be  laughed  at,  and  when  it  is  English,  it  is,  on  matters 
of  the  affections,  uncommonly  shy. 

The  necessity  of  broaching  this  delicate  matter  weighed 
heavily  on  Brancepeth's  spirits;  he  did  not  know  how  to 
set  about  it,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  at  once  ungracious  to 
her  to  delay  and  unfeeling  to  poor  buried  Cocky  to 
hasten  the  necessary  avowal.  He  was  always  thankful 
when  he  found  other  people  with  her,  and  equally  thank- 
ful that  her  respect  for  appearances  had  caused  her  to  re- 
lax her  demands  on  his  attendance  and  affection  ever 
since  her  return  from  the  interments  at  Staghurst.  One 
day,  however,  some  six  weeks  after  Cocky 's  disappearance 
from  a  world  of  poker  and  pick-me-ups,  Brancepeth  found 
himself  alone  with  the  fair  mourner  to  whom  crape  was 
so  infinitely  becoming. 

To  this  poor  fellow,  in  whose  breast  the  primitive  feel- 
ings of  human  nature  were  planted  too  deeply  for  the 
ways  of  his  world  to  have  uprooted  them,  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing the  children  with  him,  in  his  own  house,  seeing  them 
every  day  and  watching  them  grow  up,  was  one  which 
consoled  him  for  being  forced  to  sacrifice  his  liberty.  Of 
course,  they  would  always  be  Cocky's  children  to  the 
world  and  in  "Burke,"  but  if  he  were  their  mother's 
husband  nobody  would  think  it  odd  if  he  made  much  of 
them,  and  took  them  to  ride  in  the  Row,  or  went  with 
them  to  see  a  pantomime,  or  hired  a  houseboat  for  them, 
and  taught  them  how  to  scull ;  simple  joys  which  smiled 
at  him  from  the  future.  Their  mother  would  always  be 
what  she  always  had  been.  He  had  no  illusions  about 
her;  he  would  have  to  give  her  her  head  whether  he  liked 
it  or  not ;  but  the  children — Harry  saw  himself  living 
very  properly,  as  a  married  man,  in  a  little  house  off  the 
Park,  and  getting  every  now  and  then  "  a  day  out "  with 


284  THE  MASSARENES. 

Jack  on  the  river.  He  would  leave  the  Guards,  he  re- 
flected, and  pull  himself  together ;  he  had  next  to  noth- 
ing of  his  own  left,  but  some  day  or  other  he  would  be 
Lord  Inversay,  and  then,  though  it  would  always  be  a 
beggarly  business,  for  the  estates  were  mortgaged  to  their 
last  sod  of  grass,  he  would  try  to  make  things  run  as 
straight  as  he  could  for  sake  of  these  merry  little  men 
,who  were  Cocky's  children.  Occupied  with  such  inno- 
cent and  purifying  thoughts,  he  had  arrived  in  Stanhope 
Street. 

It  was  a  soft  grey  day  in  early  May,  and  her  room  was 
a  bower  of  lilac,  heliotrope,  and  tea-roses.  The  Blen- 
heims were  quiet,  for  Cocky  annoyed  them  no  more. 
The  tempered  light  fell  through  silk  blinds  on  to  the 
charming  figure  of  their  lady,  as  she  lay  back  on  a  long 
low  chair,  her  black  robes  falling  softly  about  her  as  if 
she  were  some  Blessed  Damozel,  or  Lady  of  Tears,  of 
Rossetti's  or  Burne-Jones's.  Only  between  her  lips  was 
a  cigarette  and  on  her  knee  was  a  volume  of  Gyp's. 
Harry,  good  soul,  was  riot  awake  to  the  incongruity  ;  he 
only  thought  how  awfully  fetching  she  was,  and  yet  he 
groaned  in  spirit.  But  after  a  few  preliminary  nothings, 
with  much  the  same  desperate  and  unpleasant  resolve  as 
that  with  which  he  had  gone  up  to  be  birched  at  Eton,  he 
opened  his  lips  and  spoke. 

"I  say,"  he  murmured  with  timidity — "I  say,  dear,  I 
have  wanted  to  ask  you  ever  since — I  suppose — I  mean,  of 
course,  I  understand,  now  you  are  free  you  will  want  me 
to — wish  me  to — I  mean  we  shall  have  to  get  married, 
shan't  we,  when  the  year's  out  ?  "  . 

When  these  words  had  escaped  him  he  was  sensible 
that  they  were  not  complimentary,  that  they  were  not  at 
all  what  he  ought  to  have  said,  and  a  vague  sensation  of 
fright  stole  over  him  and  he  felt  himself  turn  pale. 

Into  the  blue  eyes  of  Mouse  that  terrible  lightning 
flashed  which  had  withered  up  his  courage  very  often  as 
flame  licks  up  dry  grass.  Then  her  sense  of  humor  was 
stronger  then  her  sense  of  offence  ;  she  took  her  cigarette 
out  of  her  mouth  and  laughed  with  a  genuine  peal  of 
musical  laughter  which  was  not  affected.  He  stared  at 
her,  relieved,  but  in  his  turn  offended.  After  all,  he 


THE  MASSARENES.  285 

thought,  it  was  not  every  man  who  would  have  ridden  so 
straight  up  to  the  fence  of  duty  and  taken  it  so  gallantly. 

"  My  dear  Harry,"  she  said,  rather  slightingly,  when 
her  mirth  had  subsided,  "  I  have  had  to  listen  to  many 
declarations  in  my  time,  but — but  I  never  had  one  so 
eloquent,  so  delicate,  so  opportune  as  yours.  Pray  will 
you  tell  me  why  I  should  be  supposed  to  want  to  marry 
you,  as  you  chivalrously  express  it?  " 

"  It's  usual,"  he  answered  sulkily,  not  daring  to  express 
the  astonishment  with  which  her  tone  and  manner  filled 
him. 

"  What  is  usual  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  straight  at  him 
with  serene  imperturbable  coolness  and  entire  refusal  to 
meet  him  half  way  by  any  kind  of  comprehension. 

"  Well,  it  zs,  you  know  that,"  he  replied,  looking 
down  on  the  carpet. 

"  Usual  for  a  woman  to  marry  again  seven  weeks  after 
her  husband's  death?  I  never  heard  so.  I  believe  there 
is  a  country  where  a  widow  does  marry  all  her  husband's 
brothers  one  after  another,  as  fast  as  she  can,  but  that 
country  is  not  England." 

She  put  her  cigarette  back  into  her  mouth  again. 

He  looked  at  her  apprehensively  and  shyly  as  Jack  did 
very  often  from  under  his  long  lashes.  He  was  puzzled 
and  he  was  humiliated.  He  had  brought  himself  up  with 
a  rush  to  do  what  he  thought  honor  and  all  the  rest  of  it 
required  of  him,  and  his  self-sacrifice  was  not  even  appre- 
ciated but  derided. 

"  I  thought,  of  course,  you'd  desire  it  on  account  of 
the  children,"  he  said  stupidly,  insanely,  for  he  should 
have  known  that  truths  like  this  cannot  be  told  to  women 
with  any  possibility  of  pardon  to  the  teller  of  them. 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  admirably  imitated  astonish- 
ment. 

"  For  the  children  ?  For  Cocky's  children  ?  I  am 
really  unable  to  guess  why." 

"  Oh,  damnation  !  " 

The  rude  word  escaped  him  despite  himself;  he  rose 
and  walked  to  and  fro  across  the  room  trying  to  keep 
down  the  very  unreasonable  passion  which  burned  within 
him. 


286  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Pray  sit  down — or  go  out,"  said  Mouse  calmly,  and 
she  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette  at  the  little  silver  lighter. 

Brancepeth's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  was  wounded 
and  unnerved.  The  amazing  impudence  of  woman  which 
always  so  completely  outstrips  and  eclipses  the  uttermost 
audacity  of  man  stunned  his  feebler  and  tender  organiza- 
tion. She  was  really  still  fond  of  him,  though  his  savor, 
as  of  forbidden  fruit,  was  gone,  and  the  stupid  veracity 
and  na'ivete  of  his  character  irritated  and  bored  her. 

"  My  dear  Harry,  don't  be  so  upset,"  she  said  in  a 
kiudei  tone.  "  There  are  things  which  should  never  be 
said.  Walls  have  ears.  The  Chinese  are  quite  right.  If 
a  thing  is  not  to  be  told  do  not  tell  it.  It  is  quite  natural 
you  should  like  Cocky 's  children  since  you  were  such 
friends  with  him  and  me ;  but  you  sometimes  make  too 
much  fuss  with  them,  especially  in  the  nurseries.  Chil- 
dren are  so  soon  spoilt." 

Brancepeth  looked  at  her  from  under  his  sleepy  eyelids 
with  something  near  akin  to  contempt. 

"  The  doors  are  shut,"  he  said  sullenl}r,  "  and  there's 
nobody  on  the  balconies.  Can't  we  speak  without  bosh 
for  once?  The  poor  devil's  dead.  Can't  we  let  his  name 
alone  ?  He  was  a  bad  lot,  certainly,  but  we  didn't  try  to 
make  him  better.  He  wasn't  a  fool ;  he  must  have  known, 
you  know- 
She  roused  herself  from  her  reclining  attitude,  and  her 
fair  features  were  very  set  and  stern. 

"  He  is  dead,  as  you  observe.  Ordinary  intelligence 
would  therefore  suggest  that  it  does  not  in  the  least 
matter  what  he  did  know  and  what  he  didn't  know.  Be- 
ing dead  he  yet  speaketh,  cannot  happily  be  said  of 
Cocky.  He  has  tormented  me  by  setting  Ronnie  over 
me  and  the  children,  but  that  is  the  only  annoyance  he 
had  the  wit  to  inflict." 

"  Ronnie'll  do  his  duty." 

"  Of  course  he  will.  People  always  do  their  duty  when 
it  consists  in  being  disagreeable  to  others." 

"Answer  me,  Mouse,"  said  Brancepeth,  bringing  his 
walk  to  an  end  immediately  in  front  of  her.  "  I  want  to 
know,  you  know.  Shall  we  marry  or  not?  Don't  beat 
about  the  bush.  Say  'yes  '  or  '110.'" 


THE  MASSARENES.  287 

She  blew  some  perfumed  smoke  in  the  air,  then,  in  a 
very  chilly  and  cutting  tone,  replied  : 

"•Most  distinctly  :  no." 

"And  why  not?"  said  Brancepeth,  feeling  an  irrational 
offence,  although  a  moment  before  he  had  dreaded  receiv- 
ing an  affirmative  answer. 

"  My  dear  Harry,  we  are  both  as  poor  as  church  mice. 
If  you  can't  pay  your  own  tailors  how  would  you  pay 
mine?  " 

"  We  should  get  along  somehow." 

"  Oh,  thanks  !  I  have  had  nearly  ten  years  of  '  getting 
along  somehow/  and  it  is  an  extremely  uncomfortable  and 
crablike  mode  of  moving.  I  hope  to  have  no  more  of  it. 
It  takes  it  out  of  one.  I  shall  marry  again,  of  course. 
But  I  shall  marry  money." 

He,  still  standing  in  front  of  her,  gazed  down  on  her 
gloomily.  Certainly  he  had  been  keenly  and  nervously 
apprehensive  that  she  would  expect  to  marry  him — would 
insist  on  marrying  him;  but  now  that  she  so  decidedly 
refused  to  do  so  the  matter  took  another  aspect  in  his 
eyes.  A  vague  sullen  sense  of  offended  and  repudiated 
ownership  rose  up  in  him ;  it  is  a  sentiment  extremely 
tenacious,  unreasonable,  and  aggressive,  whether  it  be 
agrarian  or  amorous.  He  did  not  say  anything ;  words 
were  not  very  abundant  with  him,  but  he  continued  to 
look  down  on  her  gloomily. 

Marry  money ! 

And  the  man  with  money  would  have  all  this  charming 
fair  beauty  of  hers,  and  would  have  Jack  and  the  others 
in  his  nurseries  :  and  he  himself — where  would  he  be  ? 
Done  with  ;  rubbed  off  the  slate ;  struck  out  of  the  run- 
ning; allowed  to  do  a  theatre  with  her  now  and  then  per- 
haps, and  see  Jack  and  the  others  on  their  ponies  in  the 
ride  of  a  morning — where  was  the  good  of  Cocky  having 
died?  He  wished  with  all  his  soul  that  Cocky  had  not 
died.  Things  had  been  so  comfortable  with  poor  old 
Cocky. 

He  was  accustomed  to  consider  himself  as  a  part  of  her 
property  ;  for  nearly  ten  years  she  had  disposed  of  his 
time,  his  circumstance,  and  his  resources;  he  had  always 
been  at  her  beck  and  call,  and  the  nurseries  had  been 


288  TEE  MASSAHENES. 

his  recompense ;  he  was  stunned  to  be  flung  off  in  this 
way  like  any  stranger.  She  saw  that  he  was  angry,  more 
angry  than  he  knew.  She  guessed  all  the  various  feelings 
which  were  at  work  within  him  ;  they  were  clearer  to  her 
than  to  himself.  She  was  fond  of  him  ;  she  did  not  wish 
to  lose  him  entirely  ;  there  was  nobody  else  she  liked  so 
much,  nobody  else  so  extremely  good-looking.  She  ad* 
ministered  an  opiate  after  the  severe  wound  she  had  given. 

44  You  goose  !  "  she  said  softly,  whilst  her  blue  eyes 
smiled  caressingly  upon  him.  "You  are  too  terribly 
tragic  to-day.  Do  look  at  things  in  their  right  form,  dear ; 
you  must  see  that  however  much  we  might  like  it  we 
can't  possibly  afford  to  marry  each  other.  We  might  as 
well  want  to  drive  a  team  of  giraffes  down  Piccadilly. 
We  have  nothing  to  marry  upon,  and  we  are  both  of  us 
people  who  require  a  good  deal.  Besides,  society  will 
expect  us  to  marry,  and  for  that  reason  alone  I  wouldn't. 
It  would  be  de  me  donner  dans  le  tort.  I  shall  marry 
somebody  extremely  rich.  I  don't  know  who  yet,  but 
somebody,  I  promise  }rou,  who  shall  be  nice  to  you,  dear ; 
just  as  nice  as  poor  Cocky  was,  and  somebody  who  won't 
be  always  wanting  five  pounds  as  Cocky  was,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  will  be  able  to  lend  five  hundred  if  you  wish 
for  it." 

The  future  she  so  delicately  suggested  seemed  to  her  so 
seductive  that  she  expected  it  to  fully  satisfy  her  com- 
panion. But  he  saw  it  in  another  and  a  less  favorable 
aspect.  His  handsome  face  grew  dark  as  a  thunder-cloud 
and  his  teeth  shut  tightly  together.  He  stood  before  her, 
staring  down  on  her. 

"  The  devil  take  you  and  all  your  soft  speeches !  "  he 
said,  through  his  clenched  teeth.  "  You  are  an  out  and 
out  bad  woman.  That's  what  you  are.  If  you  weren't 
their  mother  I  would ." 

His  voice  choked  in  his  throat.  He  turned  quickly, 
took  up  his  hat  and  cane  from  the  chair  he  had  left  them 
on,  and  went  out  of  the  room  .without  looking  behind 
him.  He  closed  the  door  roughly  and  ran  down  the  stair- 
case. 

A  youthful  philosopher  in  powder  and  black  shoulder- 
knots,  who  was  on  duty  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  looked 


THE  MA8SARENES*  289 

after  his  retreating  figure  with  placid  derision.  "She's 
wanting  him  to  be  spliced  to  her  and  he  won't  hear  of  it," 
thought  the  youth ;  but  even  philosophers  in  powder, 
whose  Portico  is  the  vestibule  of  a  fashionable  London 
house,  sometimes  err  in  their  conclusions. 

Fury,  as  though  it  were  the  drug  curare,  held  her  mo- 
tionless and  speechless  as  she  heard  the  door  close  behind 
her  self-emancipated  slave.  The  common  coarse  language 
of  the  streets  used  to  her !  She  could  not  believe  her 
ears.  Her  rage  stifled  her.  She  could  scarcely  breathe. 
The  Blenheims  were  frightened  at  her  expression  and 
went  under  a  sofa.  She  took  the  satin  wheelbarrow — she 
did  not  know  why,  except  that  it  was  associated  in  her 
thoughts  with  him — and  she  broke  it,  and  tore  it,  and 
flung  its  contents  all  over  the  room,  and  trampled  on  the 
gilded  wheel  and  handles  till  they  were  mere  glittering 
splinters  and  shivers.  That  exercise  of  violence  did  her 
good,  the  blood  ceased  to  buzz  in  her  ears,  her  nerves 
grew  calmer ;  she  would  willingly  have  killed  someone  or 
something,  but  even  this  destruction  of  a  toy  did  her 
good,  it  was  better  than  nothing,  it  relaxed  the  tension  of 
her  nerves.  It  had  allowed  her  a  little  of  that  violent 
physical  action  which  is  the  instinct  of  even  civilized 
human  nature  when  it  is  offended  or  outraged. 

When  she  was  a  little  calmer  and  could  reflect,  she 
thought  she  would  tell  his  commanding  officer  and  de- 
mand his  punishment ;  she  thought  she  would  tell  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  entreat  his  exclusion  from  Marl- 
borough  House  and  Sandringham ;  she  thought  she  would 
tell  the  editor  of  Truth,  and  beg  him  to  have  a  paragraph 
about  it.  Then,  as  she  grew  calmer  still,  she  became 
aware  that  she  could  tell  nobody  at  all  anything  what- 
ever. If  the  world  knew  that  Harry  had  used  bad 
words  to  her,  the  world  would  immediately  ask  what 
tether  had  been  given  to  Harry  that  he  had  ever  so  greatly 
dared. 

"  The  coward,  the  coward !  "  she  said,  in  her  teeth. 
"  He  knows  I  can't  even  have  him  thrashed  by  another 
man." 

His  crime  against  her  seemed  to  her  monstrous.  It  was 
indeed  of  the  kind  which  no  woman  forgives.  It  was  the 

19 


290  THE  NASSAEENES. 

cruellest  of  all  insults ;  one  which  was  based  upon  fact. 
To  her  own  idea  she  had  very  delicately  and  good-na- 
turedly intimated  to  her  friend  that  she  would  arrange 
her  future  so  that  their  relation  should  be  as  undisturbed 
as  in  the  past.  If  that  did  not  merit  a  man's  gratitude, 
what  did  ?  Yet,  instead  of  thanks,  he  had  spoken  to  her 
as  she  had  not  supposed  women  were  spoken  to  outside 
the  Haymarket  or  the  Rat  Mort. 

She  never  admitted  to  herself  that  she  did  wrong  ;  much 
less  had  she  ever  permitted  anyone  else  to  hint  that  she 
did  so.  A  bad  woman  !  Ladies  like  herself  can  no  more 
conceive  such  a  phrase  being  used  to  describe  them  than  a 
winner  of  the  Oaks  could  imagine  herself  between  a  coster- 
monger's  shafts.  All  that  they  do  is  ticketed  under 
pretty  or  pleasant  names  on  the  shelves  of  their  memories  ; 
tact,  friendship,  amusement,  sympathy,  convenience,  amia- 
bility, health,  one  or  other  of  these  nice  sounding  words 
labels  every  one  of  their  motives  or  actions.  To  class 
themselves  with  "bad  people"  never  enters  their  minds 
for  a  moment ;  Messalina  would  certainly  never  have 
dreamed  of  being  classed  with  the  horizon  tales  of  the 
Suburra.  What  made  it  worse  was  that  she  was  still  fond 
of  him,  though  he  often  bored  her.  She  would  have 
given  ten  years  of  life  to  have  had  his  face  under  her  foot 
and  to  have  stamped  it  into  blurred  ugliness  as  she  had 
stamped  the  wheelbarrow  into  atoms.  But  these  fierce 
simple  pleasures,  alas  !  are  only  allowed  to  the  women  of 
the  Haymarket  and  the  Rat  Mort. 

She  had  done  incalculable  harm  to  Harry;  she  had 
worried,  enslaved,  and  tormented  the  best  }7ears  of  his 
life ;  she  had  impoverished  him  utterly,  she  had  stripped 
him  of  the  little  he  had  ever  possessed,  she  had  driven 
him  into  debt  which  would  hang  about  his  neck  like  a 
millstone  to  the  day  of  his  death  ;  she  had  turned  a  simple 
and  honest  nature  into  devious  and  secret  ways ;  she  had 
made  him  lie,  and  laughed  at  him  when  he  had  been 
ashamed  of  lying;  she  had  done  him  a  world  of  harm,  and 
in  return  he  had  only  said  five  little  rude  words  to  her. 
But  his  offence  seemed  to  her  so  enormous  that  if  she  had 
possessed  the  power  she  would  have  had  him  beaten  with 
rods  or  roasted  at  a  slow  fire.  That  she  had  been  his 


MASSARENES.  291 

worst  enemy  she  would  never  have  admitted  for  one  in- 
stant, never  have  supposed  that  anyone  could  think  it. 
She  considered  that  she  had  made  him  supremely  happy 
during  a  very  long  period,  that  if  she  had  ever  given  him 
cause  for  jealousy  he  had  never  known  it,  which  is  all  that 
a  well-bred  man  should  expect;  and  that  he  had  enjoyed 
the  supreme  felicity  of  being  associated  in  her  home  life, 
of  knowing  all  her  worries  and  annoyances,  and  of  being 
allowed  to  make  an  ass  of  himself  in  the  nurseries  in  a 
simili-domestic  fashion  which  was  just  suited  to  his  simple 
tastes  as  a  simili-bronze  of  a  classic  statuette  is  suited  to 
the  narrow  purse  of  a  tourist.  His  ingratitude  seemed  to 
her  so  vile,  so  enormous,  that  the  immensity  of  her  own 
wrongs  made  her  submit  to  bear  them  in  silence  out  of 
admiration  of  her  own  magnanimity  and  the  serenity  of 
her  own  certitude  that  she  would  avenge  herself  somehow 
or  other  to  the  smallest  iota. 

She  rang  the  bell,  which  was  answered  by  a  colleague 
of  the  young  philosopher  in  powder  of  the  anteroom. 
u  The  dogs  have  torn  up  this  bonbon  thing,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  wreck  of  the  ruined  wheelbarrow.  "  Take 
it  away  and  bring  me  some  luncheon  in  here ;  only  a  quail 
and  some  plover  eggs  and  some  claret ;  order  the  carriage 
for  three  o'clock." 

She  felt  exhausted  from  the  extreme  violence  of  her 
anger  and  the  infamy  of  the  affront  she  had  received;  and 
were  Phedre  or  Dido  or  Cleopatra  living  on  the  brink  of 
the  twentieth  century  no  one  of  them  would  any  day  go 
without  her  luncheon.  They  would  know  that  their 
emotions  "  took  it  out  "  of  them,  that  their  nervous  system 
was  in  danger  when  their  affections  are  disturbed;  they 
would  know  all  about  neurasthenia  and  marasma,  and 
however  angry  or  unhappy  for  Hippolytus,  for  JEneas, 
or  for  Anthon}^,  would  remember  that  they  were 
organisms  very  easily  put  out  of  order,  machines  which 
require  very  regular  nutrition ;  they  would  be  fully  con- 
scious of  the  important  functions  of  their  livers,  and  would 
regulate  their  passions  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  their 
digestions. 


292  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

WHEN  she  had  ended  her  repast  with  two  hot-house 
nectarines,  her  brother  was  announced,  to  her  great  vexa- 
tion. She  never  saw  Ronnie  very  willingly  arid  now  less 
willing  than  ever,  for  his  position  with  regard  to  her  and 
her  children  was  one  which  could  not  have  made  him  a 
persona  grata  even  had  he  been  less  outspoken  and  un- 
compromising than  he  was.  At  the  present  moment  he 
was  especially  unwelcome  to  her ;  but  as  he  had  come  up- 
stairs disregarding  the  servants'  endeavors  to  induce  him 
to  wait  while  they  inquired  their  mistress's  pleasure,  he 
had  entered  the  room  before  she  had  quite  finished  her 
second  nectarine,  and  it  was  impossible  to  order  him  to  go 
away  as  he  came.  He  had  come  on  business. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  business  concerning  little 
Jack's  succession,  the  many  burdens  already  laid  thereon, 
and  the  various  projects  which  were  in  consideration  for 
turning  to  the  best  account  the  long  minority.  Then  there 
were  her  own  jointure,  her  own  rights  and  claims,  her  own 
debts.  The  views  which  he  had  been  afforded  from  time 
to  time  of  hers  and  Cocky's  affairs  had  been  but  partial ; 
nothing  had  ever  been  completely  divulged  to  him,  neither 
Cocky  or  she  could  ever  tell  the  exact  truth — it  was  not  in 
them.  Therefore,  although  Hurstmanceaux  had  known  a 
good  deal  of  their  embarrassments  he  had  not  known 
many  matters  which  now  appalled  him  when  they  came 
before  him  in  the  dry,  cold  prose  of  legal  fact,  and  he  had 
not  spared  his  sister  the  complete  expression  of  his  supreme 
amazement  and  supreme  disgust. 

Their  interviews  were  therefore  neither  gay  nor  cordial, 
and  she  did  not  assume  a  contentment  which  she  was  so  far 
from  feeling,  as  his  entrance  made  the  claret  seem  corked 
and  the  nectarine  seem  sour. 

After  the  statement  of  the  especial  piece  of  legal  busi- 
ness which  had  brought  him  there  that  morning,  the  let- 
ting on  a  long  lease  of  the  dower-house  at  Staghurst,  for 


THE  MASSARENES.  293 

which  her  signature  was  necessary,  Hurstmanceaux,  stand- 
ing on  the  hearth  in  the  same  attitude  he  had  assumed 
when  he  had  recommended  Black  Hazel,  said  very  simply 
and  very  curtly  to  her : 

"  You  let  the  dower-house  instead  of  living  in  it.  Will 
you  tell  me  where  you  do  mean  to  live  ?  " 

She  frowned ;  she  hated  direct  questions,  they  were  so 
ill-bred. 

44  Live  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know  at  all.  Of 
course  I  shall  be  a  good  deal  here " 

u  By  here  do  you  mean  in  this  house  ?  " 

"I  dare  say — I  don't  know;  I  have  not  thought  about 
it." 

"  You  had  better  think.  The  rent  of  this  house  is  fif- 
teen hundred  a  year.  Happily  it  was  only  taken  by  the 
year.  I  have  told  them  it  will  not  be  required  next  year." 

44  Very  officious  of  you  !  "  she  said  with  a  chilly  smile. 
44 1  have  a  right  to  Otterbourne  House." 

44  Not  the  smallest  right." 

"  That  is  absurd." 

44  It  is  law." 

44  Is  it  true  you  have  let  it  to  Mannheim  ?  " 

44  Quite  true." 

Mannheim  was  the  ambassador  of  the  Russian  Emperor. 

44  All  these  things  are  no  concern  of  yours,"  said  Hurst- 
manceaux gravely.  "  Pray  give  your  attention  to  what 
does  concern  you.  Your  jointure  is  a  narrow  one.  Out 
of  it  you  should  surrender  two  thousand  a  year  for  twenty 
years  to  pay  off  your  personal  debts.  How  can  you  keep 
on  any  London  house  on  what  will  be  left  to  you?  Of 
course  the  children  live  with  you  and  bring  you  in  some- 
thing, but  very  little,  for  there  is  next  to  nothing  at  pres- 
ent ;  the  charges  on  the  estate  are  so  heavy,  as  we  demon- 
strated to  you  the  other  day.  What  will  you  do  if  you 
can't  break  yourself  in  to  some  sort  of  economy  and 
sacrifice  ?  " 

She  deigned  no  reply.  She  had  really  none  ready.  She 
was  only  intensely,  bitterly,  furiously  angry.  If  she  could 
not  live  in  the  way  she  liked  she  did  not  care  to  live  at  all. 

She  was  very  pale,  with  the  pallor  of  deep  anger ;  her 
lips  were  white  and  her  blue  eyes  dark  and  flashing.  How 


294.  THE  MA8SARENES. 

she  hated  everybody !  How  above  all  she  hated  that  little 
dead  beast  who  had  left  her  tied  hand  and  foot  like  this ! 

"  Surely  you  must  see,"  her  brother  said  with  pain, 
"  that  in  the  position  in  which  I  stand  toward  you  I  must 
be  more  strict  with  you,  my  sister,  than  it  might  be  neces- 
sary to  be  with  a  stranger  ?  " 

"  How  exactly  like  your  priggish  humbug !  "  she  cried 
furiously.  "  Nobody  else  would  take  such  a  view.  What 
is  the  use  of  connections  if  they  don't  make  things 
smooth  ?  " 

"  I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  the  only  purpose  of  my  own 
existence  in  your  eyes,"  said  Hurstmanceaux ;  "you  have 
taught  me  that  long  ago.  But  I  am  afraid  you  will  find 
others  less  indulgent  than  I  have  been,  and  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  whether  you  understand  it  or  not,  I  cannot  myself  be 
indulgent  to  you  at  the  expense  of  }Tour  sons." 

She  gave  an  impatient  gesture.  "  You  always  get  on 
your  moral  hobbyhorse,"  she  said  insolently.  "  I  believe 
there  was  never  such  a  prig  in  all  creation.  I  wish  you 
would  go  away.  You  are  wasting  for  me  all  this  fine 
morning." 

There  was  silence  between  them.  Hurstmanceaux 
broke  it  by  a  question  he  was  half  afraid  to  put. 

"  I  have  to  apologize  for  asking  you,  but  I  should  be 
glad  to  know — I  suppose  you  mean  to  marry  Brance- 
peth?" 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  looked  at  him  with  dis- 
tended nostrils  breathing  defiance. 

"Pray  why  should  I  marry  Lord  Brancepeth?" 

Hurstmanceaux  hesitated ;  he  was  astonished  and  em- 
barrassed. 

"  Well,  everybody  expects  you  to  do  so ;  it  would  be 
natural  and  proper  that  you  should ;  it  is  the  only  thing 
you  can  do  to — to " 

He  paused;  he  had  never  spoken  to  her  of  Brancepeth, 
it  hurt  him  to  do  so  ;  he  grew  red  with  embarrassment  for 
her.  He  could  not  have  used  any  words  which  could  have 
stung,  infuriated  and  embittered  her  more  than  these  un- 
fortunate and  far  too  candid  phrases.  Coming  after  the 
scene  of  an  hour  before,  they  were  like  petroleum  poured 
on  a  leaping  flame, 


THE  MASSAEENES.  295 

"  Lord  Bran cepeth  did  me  the  honor  to  offer  me  his 
hand  a  few  minutes  ago  ;  I  refused  it,"  she  said  between 
her  teeth.  "  I  am  entirely  at  a  loss  to  know  why  you  and 
4  everybody  '  consider  that  I  ought  to  marry  a  penniless 
guardsman  who  has  nothing  to  recommend  him  but  a 
handsome  face." 

"  By  heaven !     That's  cool." 

Hurstmanceaux,  as  he  muttered  the  involuntary  words, 
stared  down  on  her  too  astonished  to  say  more,  too  com- 
pletely stupefied  and  taken  aback  to  be  aware  of  the  in- 
delicacy of  his  own  astonishment. 

"  Have  you  any  more  suggestions  to  make  ?  "  she  said 
with  her  utmost  insolence. 

"  Unhappily,  I  have  to  speak  to  you  about  a  very  un- 
pleasant thing,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  and  paused. 

"You  never  speak  of  anything  that  is  not  unpleasant 
by  any  chance,"  said  his  sister.  "  Pray  unburden  your- 
self." 

"Well  then,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  not  softened  by  her 
manner,  "  briefly,  I  must  ask  you  to  be  so  good  as  to  give 
up  the  family  jewels  out  of  your  keeping ;  the  bank  will 
send  for  them  by  our  orders  on  Monday." 

She  was  prepared  for  the  question. 

"  I  have  always  had  the  use  of  them,"  she  replied  very 
calmly,  "  precedent  makes  possession." 

"  No,  it  does  not.  The  late  duke  never  gave  you  by 
signature,  nor  before  witnesses,  any  interest  in  them  or 
any  right  of  user.  He  let  you  wear  them  as  he  might 
have  lent  me  a  horse,  but  the  horse  having  been  lent  to 
me  would  not  have  become  mine  through  that  loan.  The 
jewels  are  tied  up  by  settlement,  and  go  with  the  real 
estate.  Your  husband  renewed  that  settlement  on  his 
deathbed  and  the  jewels  go  to  Jack  with  the  rest  of  the 
real  estate.  Do  I  make  myself  clear?  " 

"  The  little  beast !  "  said  Jack's  mother  between  her 
teeth. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  you  should  call  your  child  bad 
names.  He  is  your  child,  there  can  be  no  doubt  about 
that.  Failing  Jack,  his  brother  succeeds.  It  is  not  Jack 
personally  who  causes  you  this  annoyance,  it  is  the  settle- 
ment under  his  father  and  grandfather's  will-.  It  would 


296  THE  MASSARENES. 

be  just  the  same  if  you  had  no  sons  and  if  Lord  Alberio 
succeeded." 

Mouse  gave  a  fierce,  nervous,  impatient  gesture. 

"  Why  was  I  allowed  to  have  the  jewels,  then,  at  all  if 
I  am  to  be  made  ridiculous  by  having  them  taken  away 
from  me  ?  "  ! 

"  It  would  have  been  better  if  you  had  not  had  them, 
no  doubt.  But  the  duke  was  always  good-natured  arid  in- 
dulgent, and  your  husband  was  of  course  perfectly  aware 
that  the  jewels  were  protected  by  settlement;  he  renewed 
the  settlement  on  his  deathbed.  Besides,  the  great  Indian 
diamond  is  not  an  ordinary  jewel — it  is  a  fortune  in  it- 
self." 

She  was  prepared  for  this  or  some  similar  remark  and 
did  not  flinch. 

"  It  is  precisely  that  which  is  so  annoying,"  she  replied. 
"  That  jewel  is  so  conspicuous ;  to  appear  without  it  at  a 
drawing-room  or  any  function  of  any  importance  would 
be  absurd — odious.  Surely  some  way  can  be  found  to 
leave  me  the  usage  of  them  until  the  boy's  majority  ?  " 

"  No  way  at  all,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  sternly.  "  They 
will  go  to  Coutts's,  and  stay  there  until  his  majority.  By 
the  way,  where  are  they  now  ?  " 

"  In  my  jewel  safe,"  she  answered  sullenly. 

"  What  imprudence  !  " 

"  It  has  a  Chubb's  lock." 

"  Why  did  you  not  keep  them  at  the  bank  ?  Nobody 
wears  such  jewels  as  these  every  evening." 

"  I  wear  them  very  often." 

Something  aggressive  in  her  tone  aroused  her  brother. 

"  You  will  not  wear  them  any  more,"  he  said  harshly. 
"  You  must  learn  to  realize  that  they  do  not  belong  to 
you." 

"  I  shall  dispute  that  fact  before  the  court." 

" What  court?" 

"  I  do  not  know  yet,  but  some  court — some  court  which 
sees  to  such  things." 

"  Pray  be  reasonable.     You  have  not  an  inch  of  ground 
to  stand  on ;  there  is  the  settlement  renewed  every  gen 
eration ;  the  jewels  are  chattels  and  the  chattels  are  de- 
vised to  the  heir  ;  they  go  with  the  dukedom." 


THE  MASSARENES.  297 

"  I  shall  see  Mr.  Gregge." 

44  Pray  do.  Mr.  Gregge  is  not  a  very  scrupulous  man, 
but  he  is  a  man  of  sense,  and  he  will  not  tell  you  to  run 
your  head  against  a  stone  wall." 

"  If  he  do  not  do  his  duty,  I  shall  employ  someone  else." 

"No  decent  attorney  in  the  three  kingdoms  would  take 
up  such  a  case.  You  have  no  more  title  to  the  Otter- 
bourne  jewels  than  the  woman  selling  primroses  at  the 
corner  of  the  street." 

"  So  you  say." 

44  It  is  not  what  I  say,  it  is  what  the  law  says ;  what  the 
dead  men's  wills  say ;  what  the  Lord  Chancellor  himself 
would  say  if  he  were  asked.  You  are  a  person  accustomed 
to  do  whatever  you  like  and  to  bewitch  any  man  who  ap- 
proaches you,  but  you  will  find  there  are  some  things 
stronger  than  yourself,  and  one  of  them  is  the  common 
law  of  England,  which  in  this  instance  is  dead  against 
you." 

With  these  words  he  rose. 

Then,  with  one  of  those  audacious  inspirations  which 
might  have  made  her  a  great  general  had  she  been  a  man, 
she  added  between  her  teeth — 

44  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  them  and  convince 
yourself  of  their  safety  ?  Will  you  come  to  my  room  ? 
The  safe  is  screwed  to  its  stand." 

She  spoke  without  apprehension  because  she  knew  that 
the  false  diamonds  would  defy  detection  by  any  one  except 
an  expert.  Hurstmanceaux  was  reassured  by  the  frank- 
ness of  the  offer. 

"  No,  oh,  no  ! "  he  said  less  coldly.  "  I  will  of  course 
take  your  word  for  it  that  they  are  all  there." 

"  You  are  really  too  confiding,"  said  his  sister  very  con- 
temptuously. She  rose  also  with  tightened  teeth,  dilated 
nostrils,  flashing  eyes.  44  Your  conduct  is  infamous !  To 
insult  your  own  sister !  " 

"There  is  no  insult,"  said  Hurstmanceaux.  "An  honest 
woman  would  not  want  to  be  asked  twice  to  give  up  what 
is  not  her  own." 

"  Out  of  my  presence  ! "  she  cried  with  a  shrill  sound  in 
her  voice  like  that  of  the  wind  as  it  rises  in  storm. 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  her  brother  very  coldly.     "  To- 


298  THE  MASSARENE8. 

morrow  is  Sunday.  On  Monday  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  they  will  come  from  the  bank  for  the  jewels,  and 
you  will  consult  your  own  interests  best  by  giving  them 
up  without  more  of  this  folly ;  we  shall  have  them  valued 
afresh  by  Hunt  and  Roskell,  for  values  change  with  time." 

"  Out  of  my  presence,  and  never  dare  to  enter  it  again 
so  long  as  you  live  !  "  she  said  with  fury,  whilst  she  twisted 
her  handkerchief  between  her  hands  as  though  it  were 
Jack's  little  throat  that  she  was  strangling. 

Hurstmanceaux  shrugged  his  shoulders,  bowed  to  her 
slightly,  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

To  a  more  suspicious  man  the  impression  that  she  had 
some  worse  motive  for  her  opposition  than  a  mere  vain 
reluctance  to  part  with  these  ornaments  would  have  sug- 
gested itself;  but  he  was  not  suspicious,  and  he  knew  that 
women  of  her  type  would  sell  their  souls  to  be  smarter 
than  their  neighbors. 

"  Cocky  only  put  me  in  his  will,"  he  thought  ruefulty, 
"  because  he  knew  that  I  was  up  to  her  tricks,  and  should 
put  the  curb  on  her  for  the  young  un's  sake." 

He  did  his  duty  loyally ;  but  the  doing  of  it  was  ex- 
tremely disagreeable  to  him.  He  could  not  help  being 
fond  of  her ;  he  never  could  wholly  forget  the  time  when 
she  had  been  a  little,  saucy,  lovely,  bewitching  child, 
resting  her  golden  curls  on  his  shoulder  when  he  went 
home  from  Eton  or  Oxford. 


THE  MASSARENES.  299 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

he  went  downstairs  lie  summoned  the  major- 
tlomo  into  the  library  on  the  ground  floor,  where  Cocky 's 
sporting  literature  still  strewed  the  tables. 

"  Mason,  her  Grace  leaves  this  house  on  the  first  of 
July,"  he  said  to  that  functionary. 

"  Very  good,  my  lord,"  said  Mason,  with  impassable 
countenance. 

u  You  see,  Mason,"  continued  Ronald,  "  the  duchess  is 
of  course  in  a  very  altered  position ;  if  the  duke  had 
lived " 

"Quite  so,  my  lord,"  said  Mason,  who  thought:  "Bless 
us  and  save  us!  If  he  had,  everything  would  have  gone 
in  the  smelting-pot." 

"Her  establishment  will  be  much  diminished;  I  am 
afraid  she  will  be  obliged  to  relinquish  your  services  and 
those  of  others." 

"  Oh,  my  lord,"  said  Mason  with  a  respectful  little 
gesture  which  implied  that  persons  like  himself  were  al- 
ways in  demand  at  all  seasons,  and  that  the  loss  would  be 
her  Grace's,  not  his. 

"  Well,  you  will  see  that  everything  is  packed  up  that 
belongs  to  the  family,  and  you  will  see  that  the  house  is 
put  in  due  order  to  be  given  up  to  its  owners  on  the  last 
day  of  the  month ;  for  your  wages  and  those  of  the  others 
you  will  go  to  the  late  duke's  lawyers." 

Mr.  Mason's  face  clouded  haughtily  at  the  word  wages, 
but  he  was  a  good-hearted  man — he  did  riot  openly  re- 
sent. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  my  lord,"  he  said  with  hesitation,  "  but 
does  her  Grace  know  she  leaves  the  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ronald.  "  That  is,  she  knows  she  must 
leave  it." 

"  And  do  you  think  she  will,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  She  must !  " 

Mason  shook  his  head. 


300  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"  The  duchess  never  does  what  is  not  agreeable  to  her, 
my  lord." 

"She  must  leave  it ;  and  you  must  see  that  preparations 
are  duly  made,  so  that  she  cannot  remain  in  it." 

Mr.  Mason  coughed  slightly. 

"  My  lord,  I  have  heard  that  there  are  tenants  in  Ireland 
who  will  not  go  out  till  the  thatch  is  set  afire  over  their 
heads,  and  even  then  let  themselves  and  their  pigs  be 
burnt  rather  than  give  up  possession.  I  mean  no  disre- 
spect, my  lord,  when  I  venture  to  say  that  my  lady — I 
mean  her  Grace — is  very  much  of  that  kind  of  temper, 
my  lord." 

"  I  know  she  is,"  said  Hurstmanceaux.  "  That  is  why 
I  speak  to  you  on  this  matter.  Go  out  of  the  house  she 
must." 

"  Of  course  I  will  do  my  best,  my  lord,"  said  Mason  in 
a  dubious  tone  ;  he  knew  if  her  Grace  did  not  choose  any- 
thing to  be  packed  up  nothing  would  be. 

At  that  moment  Cecile,  the  head  maid,  entered ;  she 
was  a  tall,  supercilious,  conceited-looking  Swiss  woman 
of  forty. 

"  If  you  please,  my  lord,"  she  said,  looking  impudently 
in  Ronald's  face,  "her  Grace  would  be  glad  to  know  when 
you  mean  to  go  out  of  the  house,  as  her  Grace  is  waiting 
to  come  downstairs." 

Hurstmanceaux  turned  his  back  on  her. 

"You  have  received  my  orders,  Mason.  The  landlord 
resumes  possession  here  on  the  last  day  of  the  month." 

Then  he  went  into  the  hall  and  out  of  the  house  door. 

"  Quel  ours!  "  said  Cecile,  with  her  nose  in  the  air.  She 
liked  gentlemen  like  the  foreign  diplomatist  who  had  gone 
to  see  the  Battersea  birds. 

Mr.  Mason  shook  his  head  in  a  melancholy  manner. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  all  of  us  leave,"  he  said  gloomily. 
"  The  Miser's  got  the  purse-strings  now  and  the  duchess 
aren't  anywhere." 

"Moi,f  resterai,"  said  the  Swiss  woman.  "She  does 
hit  one  with  the  hairbrush  sometimes  and  pretty  hard  too, 
but  she  is  first-rate  fun,  and  always  leaves  her  letters 
about,  and  never  knows  what  she  has  or  she  hasn't.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  Mr.  Mason,  she  will  always  live  in  clover." 


THE  MASSARENES.  301 

"I  dare  say  she  will,"  said  the  more  virtuous  Mason. 
"  But  it  won't  be  correct,  now  Cocky's  gone  ;  and  myself 
I  shall  give  her  the  go-by." 

Their  mistress  meanwhile  was  walking  up  and  down 
her  morning-room,  a  prey  to  many  torturing  and  conflict- 
ing thoughts.  She  knew  that  she  had  done  an  unwise 
and  an  ill-bred  thing  in  sending  that  message  by  Cecile  to 
her  brother,  but  her  rage  had  outstripped  her  prudence. 
Ronald  was  the  best  friend  she  had,  and  she  had  proved 
it  a  thousand  times ;  but  an  ungovernable  hatred  seethed 
within  her  against  him.  He  and  Harry — she  did  not  know 
which  she  hated  the  more,  which  of  the  two  had  insulted 
her  the  more  infamously.  A  woman  may  lose  all  title  to 
respect,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  she  does  not  retain 
every  pretension  to  it. 

Nothing  could  ever  have  persuaded  her  that  she  had 
lost  her  right  to  have  everyone  hold  her  in  the  highest 
esteem.  Nevertheless,  she  had  sense  enough  to  be  aware 
that  she  was  in  a  very  odious  position,  and  that  she  might 
very  easily  be  in  one  which  would  be  absolute  disgrace, 
one  which  would  place  her  on  the  level  with  those  poor 
simpletons  whom  she  had  always  scorned  so  immeasur- 
ably, women  who  had  lost  their  natural  position  and  were 
nowhere  at  home,  and  could  only  get  received  at  Florence 
tea-tables  and  Homburg  picnics  and  Monaco  supper  parties. 
She  had  always  thought  that  she  would  sooner  die  than 
be  put  in  the  basket  with  the  peches  d  quinze  series.  For 
she  was  intensely  proud,  and  had  made  many  a  poor  woman 
who  had  been  compromised  feel  the  weight  of  her  disdain 
and  the  sting  of  her  cruelty.  She  always  intended  to  en- 
joy herself,  to  do  exactly  whatever  she  pleased,  but  she 
never  intended  to  lose  her  right  to  present  Boo  ten  years 
hence  at  the  Drawing-room.  People  who  did  lose  their 
place  were  idiots.  So  she  had  always  thought,  but  at  the 
present  moment  she  was  obliged  to  feel  that  she  might 
very  easily  lose  her  place  herself. 

Beaumont  had  frightened  her,  but  he  had  not  frightened 
her  so  intensely  as  had  her  brother  ;  and,  as  he  had  given 
her  six  months'  time,  she  had  with  her  usual  happy 
insouciance  almost  dismissed  the  peril  from  her  mind.  But 
she  knew  her  brother's  character  and  she  knew  that  he 


302  THE  HASSARENES. 

would  send  the  men  from  the  bank  at  the  time  fixed  as 
punctually  as  the  clock  would  strike  eleven.  And  then 
from  the  bank  he  would  send  the  jewels  to  Hunt  and 
Roskell,  and  that  admirable  imitation  of  the  roc's  egg, 
which  would  deceive  the  unaided  eye  of  anyone,  would  be 
detected  in  its  falseness  by  their  acids  or  their  wheels  or 
whatever  the  things  were  with  which  jewelers  tested  dia- 
monds. And  then  he,  despite  his  unsuspicious  stupidity, 
would  know,  without  any  further  proof,  that  she  had 
pawned  or  sold  the  original. 

"I  am  at  home  to  no  one,"  she  said  to  her  footman,  and 
continued  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  in  nervous  agi- 
tation. 

She  had  several  engagements,  such  engagements  as  her 
mourning  allowed,  but  she  ignored  them  all ;  she  could 
not  see  anyone  until  she  could  find  out  some  way  of  exit 
from  this  hideous  labyrinth  of  trouble. 

Suddenly  it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that,  do  what  she 
would,  she  could  not  get  the  diamond  in  time  for  Monday 
morning.  It  was  in  Paris.  If  she  went  to  Paris  without 
the  money  she  would  be  no  nearer  to  it ;  and  besides,  her 
sudden  departure  would  at  once  awaken  the  suspicions  of 
Jack's  guardians.  She  must  not  only  find  the  large  sum 
of  money  needed,  but  she  must  also  find  someone  who 
would  go  to  Paris  and  bring  the  stone  back  before  Mon- 
day forenoon. 

There  were  many  men  who  were  devoted  to  her,  but  as 
she  ran  over  their  names  in  her  mind  she  could  think  of 
no  one  whose  adoration,  whether  expectant  or  retrospect- 
ive, would  be  equal  to  such  a  strain  on  it  as  that ;  nor 
every  one  to  whom  she  could  quite  safely  trust  her  secret. 

There  are  very  pretty  theories  arid  ideals  about  the 
honor  of  men  of  the  world,  but  she  knew  such  men  down 
to  the  ground,  as  she  would  have  phrased  it,  and  she  had 
few  illusions  about  their  honor.  She  knew  that  when 
they  are  in  love  with  one  woman  they  show  up  to  that 
one  all  the  others  who  have  preceded  her  in  their  affec- 
tions. Harry,  indeed,  she  might  have  trusted ;  but  she 
had  broken  with  him,  and  even  if  she  had  not  done  so,  he 
could  no  more  have  raised  a  seventh  part  of  the  money 
than  he  could  have  uprooted  St.  James's  Palace.  He  was 


THE  MASSARENE8.  303 

stone  broke,  as  he  said  himself.  Her  little  travelling 
timepiece,  which  stood  on  her  writing-table,  seemed  to 
sway  over  the  seconds  and  minutes  with  a  fiendish  rapid- 
ity. Half-an  hour  had  gone  by  since  her  brother  had  left 
her,  and  she  was  no  nearer  a  solution  to  her  torturing  diffi- 
culties. Other  women  would  have  weakened  and  com- 
promised themselves  by  running  to  some  female  confidant, 
but  she  had  none  ;  with  her  own  sisters  she  was  always 
on  the  terms  of  an  armed  neutrality  and  in  female  friends 
she  had  never  seen  any  object  or  savor.  As  soon  as  a 
woman  was  intimate  with  you  she  only  tried  to  take  your 
men  away  from  you;  she  never  gave  any  woman  the 
opportunity  to  do  so. 

Another  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  by ;  she  heard  her 
horses  stamping  on  the  stones  beneath  the  windows ;  she 
heard  the  children  scamper  down  the  staircase  on  their 
way  to  their  afternoon  walk  in  the  park  ;  she  heard  people 
drive  up  and  drive  away  as  they  were  met  by  the  inexo- 
rable "  Not  at  home  "  of  the  good-looking  youth  in  powder 
and  black  shoulder-knots  who  opened  the  hall  door. 

How  horrible  !  she  thought,  oh,  how  horrible  !  This 
might  be  the  very  last  day  on  which  anybod}^  would  call 
on  her !  For  she  knew  well  enough  that  the  offence  she 
had  committed  was  one  which,  once  made  public,  would 
close  to  her  the  only  world  for  which  she  cared.  "  And 
yet  I  really  meant  no  harm,"  she  thought.  "I  thought 
the  thing  was  mine  or  would  be.  Why  did  that  odious 
Poodle  lend  it  me  ?  So  treacherous  !  Why  did  he  not 
explain  to  me  that  it  was  a  '  chattel '  ?  What  is  a  chattel  ? 
Why  did  Beaumont  advance  the  money  upon  it?  He  was 
much  more  to  blame  than  I  am,  because  of  course  he  knew 
the  law." 

In  that  she  was  perhaps  not  wrong,  for  though  the  world 
may  blame  only  the  borrower,  the  lender  is  not  seldom 
the  wickeder  of  the  two. 

Tired  out  with  her  ceaseless  pacing  to  and  fro  over  the 
carpet,  her  nerve  gave  way,  and  for  almost  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  burst  into  tears,  bitter,  hysterical,  cruel 
tears,  the  tears  which  disfigure  and  age  the  woman  who 
sheds  them.  The  Blenheims,  infinitely  distressed,  jumped 
on  her  lap  and  endeavored  to  console  her ;  rubbing  their 


304  THE 

little  red  and  white  heads  against  her  cheeks.  Their 
caresses  touched  her  in  her  loneliness.  "  We  hated  Cocky, 
you  and  I,"  she  said  to  them  ;  "  but  I  wish  to  heaven  he 
had  never  died."  With  all  her  keen  enjoyment  of  life  she 
really  understood  in  that  hour  of  torture  how  it  was  that 
women  driven  at  bay  killed  themselves  to  escape  detection 
and  condemnation.  She  did  riot  mean  to  kill  herself  be- 
cause she  was  a  woman  of  many  resources  and  had  her 
beautiful  face  and  form,  and  loved  life  ;  but  she  felt  that 
she  would  rather  kill  herself  than  meet  Ronald's  eyes  if  he 
learned  that  the  Indian  diamond  had  been  changed  and 
pawned.  And  know  it  he  must  as  soon  as  Hunt  and 
Roskell's  assayer  tested  the  stones.  Beaumont  had  told 
her  honestly  that  the  imitation  would  deceive  anyone,  even 
a  jeweler,  unless  it  were  tested;  but  that  tested  it  would 
of  course  fly  in  pieces  and  confess  itself  a  fraud. 

She  had  only  forty-three  hours  before  the  messenger 
from  the  bank  would  come.  Whatever  she  did  had  to  be 
done  before  the  stones  were  consigned  to  him,  for  after 
they  were  out  of  her  possession  she  would  not  be  safe  for 
a  moment.  At  all  costs  she  must  get  back  the  roc's  egg 
from  Beaumont  or  be  a  ruined,  disgraced,  miserable  woman. 
True,  she  felt  sure  that  her  brother  and  the  Ormes  would 
not  expose  her  to  the  world.  They  would  scrape  the 
money  together  at  all  costs,  and  redeem  the  jewel,  and  ob- 
serve secrecy  on  the  whole  abominable  affair;  but  she 
would  be  in  their  power  for  ever ;  they  would  be  able  to 
punish  her  in  any  way  they  chose,  and  their  punishment 
would  certainly  take  the  form  of  exiling  her  from  every- 
thing which  made  life  worth  living. 

The  old  churchman,  Lord  Augustus,  was  hardly  more 
than  a  lay  figure,  but  Alberic,  she  knew,  looked  on  her 
with  all  the  disdain  and  dislike  of  a  refined  and  religious 
man,  for  one  whom  he  condemned  in  all  her  ways  and 
whom  he  considered  had  made  his  brother  and  his  father 
dupes  from  the  first  day  of  her  marriage.  And  Ronald 
would  be  but  the  more  bitterly  inflexible  because  he  would 
consider  that  her  near  relationship  to  himself  compelled 
him  in  honor  to  the  uttermost  severity  in  judgment  and 
action  ;  he  would  consider  that  he  could  not  show  to  her 
the  indulgence  he  might  have  shown  to  a  stranger. 


THE  NASSARENES.  305 

Her  fit  of  weeping  exhausted  itself  by  its  own  violence, 
and  as  she  glanced  at  her  face  in  the  glass  she  was  horri- 
fied to  see  her  red  and  swollen  eyelids  and  her  complexion 
smudged  and  dulled  like  a  pastel  which  some  ignorant 
servant  has  dusted. 

"Nothing  on  earth  is  worth  the  loss  of  one's  beauty," 
she  said  to  herself,  and  she  went  upstairs  and,  without 
summoning  her  maid,  washed  her  face  with  rose  water  and 
ran  a  comb  through  her  hair ;  the  Blenheims  sitting  on 
either  side  of  her,  critical  of  processes  with  which  they 
were  familiar. 

As  she  sat  before  her  toilet-table  and  its  oval  silver- 
framed  swinging  mirror,  her  eyes  fell  by  chance  on  a 
glove  box  made  of  tortoise  shell  and  gold,  with  two  gold 
amorini  playing  with  a  fawn  on  its  lid. 

"  Billy !  "  she  said  suddenly,  half  aloud. 

William  Massarene  had  given  her  the  box  when  she  had 
betted  gloves  with  him  at  the  previous  year's  Goodwood 
races. 

"  Billy  !  "  she  said  again  under  her  breath. 

Yes,  there  was  Billy ;  the  only  person  in  the  whole  world 
who  could  do  for  her  what  she  wanted  without  feeling  it. 

She  would  have  to  tell  him,  to  make  him  understand 
the  urgency  of  it,  some  portion  of  the  truth ;  the  blood 
rushed  over  her  face  with  the  repulsion  of  pride.  Tell 
her  necessities  to  the  man  she  bullied  and  despised !  She 
sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  two  gold  cupids  thinking 
how  she  could  put  the  story  so  that  she  would  not  be  low- 
ered in  his  eyes.  It  was  a  difficult  and  embarrassing  test 
of  her  ingenuity,  for  not  only  had  she  to  get  the  money 
out  of  him  but  she  must  get  him  to  send  or  to  go  to  Paris 
by  that  evening's  train.  She  had  pillaged  Massarene  with- 
out shame  or  compunction.  She  had  made  him  "bleed" 
without  stint.  She  had  made  him  do  a  thousand  follies, 
costly  to  himself  but  useful  to  her,  like  the  purchases  of 
Blair  Airon  and  Vale  Royal.  She  had  rooked  him  with- 
out mercy,  considering  that  she  did  him  an  honor  in  no- 
ticing him  at  all.  But,  by  some  contradiction,  or  some 
instinct  of  pride  or  of  decency,  she  shrank  at  the  idea  of 
actually  borrowing  money  from  him — of  actually  being 
indebted  to  him  for  a  great  service. 
20 


306  THE  MASSARENES. 

In  all  lesser  transactions  with  him  she  had  considered 
him  her  debtor  for  her  patronage ;  but  to  make  him  do 
this,  to  make  him  pay  Beaumont  and  restore  her  the 
Indian  stone,  would  be  to  become  his  debtor.  There  was 
no  shirking  the  fact.  Would  she  ever  be  able  to  bully 
and  insult  him  afterwards?  Yes,  why  not?  He  was  a 
cad,  a  snob,  a  horror;  such  men  were  only  made  to  be 
trodden  on  and  have  their  ears  boxed. 

She  decided  that  it  did  not  matter  what  a  low-bred 
brute  like  him  knew  or  thought,  and  that  since  Provi- 
dence had  given  her  a  rich  idiot  into  her  hands  it  would 
be  worse  than  folly  not  to  use  his  resources.  Anything, 
anything,  was  better  than  to  let  the  imitation  jewel  go  to 
Hunt  and  Roskell  for  inevitable  detection.  And  there 
were  now  only  forty-three  hours  in  which  to  act* 

He  was  in  town  she  knew.  He  was  in  town  because  she 
was  in  town,  and  because  the  House  was  sitting.  Where 
should  she  see  him  ? 

To  send  for  him  to  her  residence  might  cause  some  story 
to  get  about ;  to  go  to  Harrenden  House  was  still  more 
compromising  unless  she  began  by  a  visit  to  his  wife, 
which  would  be  round  about  and  cause  delay;  she  knew 
he  might  very  possibly  be  at  the  Commons — new  mem- 
bers are  always  very  assiduous  in  their  attendance — and 
he  was  at  that  time  serving  on  a  Royal  Commission  on 
some  agricultural  difficulty.  She  had  herself  dressed,  feel- 
ing that  Cecile  looked  curiously  at  her,  and  telling  the 
woman  to  take  the  dogs  in  Kensington  Gardens,  she  went 
to  her  carriage  which  had  been  waiting  two  hours. 

"  To  Palace  Yard ! "  she  said  to  her  footman :  the 
horses,  irritated  in  temper  and  with  their  mouths  and 
necks  in  pain  from  their  long  penance  in  their  bearing- 
reins,  flew  thither  with  the  speed  of  the  wind. 

She  sent  for  Mr.  Massarene,  who  was,  the  doorkeeper 
said,  in  the  House.  After  a  few  moments  he  came  out  to 
her  with  the  deferential  haste  of  an  enamored  man,  which 
sat  ill  on  his  broad  squat  figure  and  his  iron-grey,  elderly, 
respectable,  tradesmanlike  aspect. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  a  moment,"  she  said  as  he 
came  and  stood  by  the  carriage.  "  Can  you  give  me  a  cup 
of  tea  on  the  terrace  ?  " 


THE  MASSARENES.  307 

"  Certainly,  certainly !  "  he  stammered,  confused  by  a 
dual  sentiment — the  charm  of  her  presence  and  the  fear 
that  it  would  look  odd  to  be  seen  with  her.  "  The  com- 
mittee I  am  on  has  just  ended  its  sitting,"  he  added  with 
the  pride  which  he  felt  in  his  functions.  "  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted if  I  can  be  of  any  use." 

"  There  is  no  one  there  now,  is  there  ?  "  she  asked,  sen- 
sible as  he  was  that  her  appearance  in  such  a  public  place 
would  look  very  strange. 

"No  one,  or  next  to  no  one.  No  one  of  your  friends, 
certainly.  A  few  Radical  members." 

"  They  don't  matter,"  she  said,  and  went  with  him 
through  the  House  to  the  terrace. 

He  gave  her  a  seat  and  ordered  tea.  He  was  dazzled 
and  intimidated  as  he  always  was  by  her  presence,  but  he 
was  conscious  that  her  beguilements  always  ended  in 
some  advantage  for  herself,  so  that  he  was  less  flattered 
than  he  would  otherwise  have  been  by  her  sudden  appeal 
to  him. 

It  was  a  grey  day,  the  river  was  in  fog,  but  the  air  was 
windless  and  mild. 

She  threw  back  her  veil  and  the  pale  light  fell  on  the 
brightness  of  her  hair,  and  the  beauty  of  her  face  enhanced 
by  the  frame  of  crape.  The  traces  of  her  weeping  had 
passed  away,  leaving  her  face  softer  and  whiter  than  usual 
with  a  tremor  on  the  mouth  like  that  of  a  little  child  who 
has  been  scolded. 

William  Massarene's  observant  eyes  read  those  signs. 
"  She's  in  some  real  sharp  trouble  this  time,  I  reckon,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

He  was  a  man  who  had  never  known  pity,  but  he  did 
feel  sorry  for  her. 

She  made  the  mistake  of  judging  him  from  the  exterior. 
Because  he  was  afraid  of  her  and  of  her  friends,  because 
he  did  not  know  how  to  bow,  because  he  made  ludicrous 
mistakes  in  language  and  manner,  because  he  crumbled 
his  bread  on  the  dinner-cloth,  and  never  used  his  finger- 
glass,  she  imagined  him  to  be  a  fool. 

She  did  not  understand  that  if  he  let  himself  be  robbed 
he* did  so  with  a  purpose  and  not  out  of  feebleness.  She 
did  not  understand  that,  although  he  was  hypnotized  by 


308  TEE  MA88AEENE8. 

her  because  he  was  under  the  influence  of  a  woman  for 
the  first  time,  there  was  always  alive  underneath  his  obe- 
dience the  sharp,  keen,  brutal  selfishness  which  had  made 
him  the  great  man  he  was. 

"What  is  the  trouble,  my  lad}*-?"  he  said,  leaning  for- 
ward, his  hands  on  his  knees  in  his  usual  attitude.  "Why, 
lord,  you're  no  more  made  for  trouble  than  a  white  cocka- 
too's for  mud  and  rain." 

There  was  not  a  soul  on  the  terrace ;  the  attendant  who 
had  brought  the  tea-tray  had  retired ;  there  was  the  scream 
and  roar  of  a  steam-tug  coming  up  the  river  in  the  fog, 
and  a  factory  bell  on  the  opposite  shore  was  clanging 
loudly :  she  thought  she  should  hear  those  two  sounds  in 
her  ears  as  long  as  ever  she  should  live. 

She  knew  that  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  that  the  mo- 
ments were  tearing  along  like  sleuth-hounds,  that  she  must 
tell  him  now  or  never,  must  get  his  help  or  be  ruined. 

She  was  of  high  physical  courage ;  she  had  slid  from  the 
back  of  a  rearing  horse;  she  had  never  lost  her  nerve  on  a 
yacht-deck  in  a  storm,  when  men  were  washed  overboard 
like  chickens;  she  had  been  perfectly  cool  and  self-pos- 
sessed one  awful  night  on  a  Highland  mountain  when  she 
and  her  whole  party  had  lost  their  way  for  twelve  hours 
of  snowdrift  and  hurricane ;  but  now,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  she  was  nerveless,  and  felt  her  tongue  cleave  to 
the  roof  of  her  mouth  and  her  spirit  fail  her. 

"  Come,  keep  up  your  pecker,"  said  Mr.  Massarene  in 
what  he  meant  to  be  a  kindly  encouragement.  "  Come, 
tell  me  what  the  matter  is,  my  pretty  one." 

She  started  like  a  doe  past  whose  side  a  bullet  whistles 
as  the  odious  familiarity  struck  her  ear — the  familiarity 
which  she  did  not  dare  to  resent,  the  familiarity  which 
told  her  how  much  the  expression  of  her  face  must  have 
confessed  already.  With  dilated  nostrils,  through  which 
her  breath  came  and  went  rapidly  and  in  short  pulsations, 
she  plunged  midmost  into  her  story :  the  story  as  arranged 
and  decorated  and  trimmed  by  her  own  intelligent  skill, 
wherein  she  was  plainly  the  victim  of  circumstance,  of 
her  own  ignorance,  of  a  tradesman's  deceitfulness,  and  of 
her  relatives'  cruelty  and  harshness.  The  old  duke,  she 
averred,  had  given  her  the  jewels ;  but  it  seemed  there 


TtiE  MASSARENES.  309 

was  nothing  to  show  that  he  had  done  so,  and  her  brother 
and  brothers-in-law  were  so  inconceivably  base  as  to  doubt 
her  word  for  it,  and  to  claim  them  for  the  heir  as  "real 
estate."  No  woman,  she  thought,  had  ever  been  so  bru- 
tally treated  in  the  whole  history  of  the  world. 

She  spoke  at  first  hesitatingly  and  with  visible  embar- 
rassment, but  she  grew  more  at  her  ease  as  she  got  her 
story  well  in  hand,  and  she  became  eloquent  in  the  de- 
scription of  her  wrongs. 

William  Massarene  followed  her  narrative  attentively 
and  without  interruption,  leaning  a  little  forward  with  his 
hands  on  his  knee  and  glancing  round  to  see  that  no  one 
was  in  sight  to  wonder  at  his  flattering  but  compromising 
tete-a-tete.  He  was  magnetized  by  her  voice,  dazzled  by 
her  eyes,  but  what  she  spoke  of  was  a  matter  of  business 
and  he  was  beyond  all  else  a  man  of  business.  Business 
was  his  own  domain.  On  that  he  was  master ;  in  that  it 
was  not  in  the  power  of  anyone  to  cheat  him.  His  sharp 
perception  quickly  understood  her  position,  disentangled 
facts  from  fiction,  and  comprehended  in  what  danger  she 
was  placed.  He  did  not  let  her  see  that  he  knew  she  was 
glossing  over  and  changing  the  circumstances  ;  but  he  did 
know  it,  and  stripped  the  false  from  the  true  in  his  own 
reflections  as  surely  as  he  had  shifted  gold  from  quartz 
in  his  days  in  the  gold-fields.  He  could  have  turned  her 
narrative  inside  out  and  rent  it  to  pieces  in  a  second,  but 
he  forbore  to  do  so,  and  appeared  to  accept  her  version  of 
the  matter  as  she  presented  it  to  him. 

"But  what  made  you  take  the  jewels  to  this  Beau- 
mont ?  "  he  asked  her  as  she  paused. 

"  I  wanted  money,"  she  said  sullenly. 

"  Was  it  before  you  knew  me  ?  " 

"  Just  before." 

"  And  you  asked  nobody's  advice  ?  " 

"  No." 

The  ghost  of  a  grim  smile  flitted  over  his  face  :  certainly 
for  consummate  folly  he  thought  these  great  folks  beat 
anything  in  all  creation. 

"  Oh,  don't  laugh  at  one,  Billy,"  she  said  with  genuine 
mortification  and  shame  in  her  voice.  "You  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  want  money  as  we  do." 


310  THE  MASSARENES. 

He  looked  at  her  indulgently. 

"I  dare  say  it's  hard  on  you.  Yon  have  to  keep  up  all 
that  swagger  on  nothing.  Well,  as  I  understand  the 
matter,  you  must  have  these  diamonds  before  Monday  fore- 
noon, eh  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  shortly,  with  a  catch  in  her  breath; 
she  felt  by  the  change  in  his  tone  how  far  she  had  de- 
scended from  her  pedestal  by  her  confession.  "  Oh,  the 
brute!"  she  thought  passionately;  "how  I  should  love 
to  strangle  him  and  fling  him  into  the  Thames  pea-soup  !  " 

"  What  is  it  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  he  asked,  whilst  he 
knew  without  asking;  but  he  liked  "to  keep  her  nose  to 
the  grindstone  " ;  he  was  but  paying  in  fair  coin  the  in- 
numerable insults  she  had  passed  on  him,  the  countless 
awkward  and  painful  moments  she  had  entailed  on  him. 

She  took  up  all  her  courage  and  trusted  to  the  magic 
of  her  influence  over  him. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  over  to  Paris  and  get  them  for  me. 
I  dare  say  you  could  get  them  for  half  price.  Beaumont 
would  be  afraid  of  you.  " 

His  face  did  not  reveal  his  thoughts;  his  dull  grey  eyes 
stared  at  her  fixedly. 

"  What  was  the  sum  you  had  from  him  ?  " 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  francs ;  but  then  there  is 
the  cast  of  the  false  stones  to  add  to  that  and  the  inter- 
est.'' 

She  spoke  the  truth  in  this,  for  she  knew  that  it  would 
be  no  use  to  do  otherwise. 

"  And  what  did  you  sign  for  ?  " 

"  I  can't  remember." 

William  Massarene  laughed,  a  short,  rasping,  grim  sound, 
like  the  chuckle  of  the  big  woodpecker. 

"Beaumont  has  a  very  good  reputation,"  she  added. 
"  He  never  cheats.  He  was  once  a  gentleman,  they  say." 

"  And  gentlefolks  never  cheat,  do  they,  my  lady ! " 

"  Oh,  Billy,  don't  mock  at  me,"  she  cried  with  genuine 
distress.  "I  am  in  horrible  trouble.  I  have  told  you 
everything  because  you  ar€  my  friend.  Will  you  do  this 
thing  or  won't  you  ?  " 

"  How  will  you  pay  me  if  I  do  ?  " 

"  Pay  you  !  " 


THE  MASSAEENE8.  311 

In  her  heart  of  hearts  she  knew  that  she  had  not  the 
remotest  intention  of  ever  paying  him. 

"  How  will  you  pay  me  if  I  do  ?  "  he  repeated.  A  look 
came  into  his  eyes  as  they  stared  on  her  which  might 
have  warned  her  that  he  was  not  a  man  who  would  go  for 
ever  unpaid.  She  was  silent ;  she  really  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  She  knew  that  she  hated  him  horribly.  But 
she  had  no  other  chance. 

He  enjoyed  her  discomfiture. 

"  You'll  pay  me  somehow,  I  reckon,"  he  said,  after  leav- 
ing her  in  torture  for  a  few  moments.  "  Well,  I'll  do  this 
thing  for  you.  I'll  go  to  Paris  to-night.  Send  me  a  line 
from  you  authorizing  me  to  treat  for  you  with  this  jeweler. 
I'll  get  back  to-morrow  evening.  You'll  be  at  your  house 
by  ten  o'clock,  and  I'll  come  there  straight  from  Cannon 
Street.  Mind  you're  alone." 

The  rough  authority  of  the  sentences  chilled  her  to  the 
bone  ;  she  realized  that  he  was  no  more  her  timid  obedient 
slave,  but  her  master,  and  a  master  with  a  whip.  Some- 
thing in  the  expression  of  his  face  made  her  sick  with 
fear.  But  there  was  no  other  means,  no  other  saviour  ;  if 
she  offended  him,  if  she  rejected  the  aid  she  had  asked  for, 
the  false  stones  would  go  to  Hunt  and  Roskell,  and  her 
brother  and  brothers-in-law  would  know  everything. 

"You'd  better  go  now,"  said  William  Massarene,  read- 
ing in  her  mind  as  if  it  were  a  book.  "  This  aren't  a  place 
to  talk  secrets;  and  pull  your  veil  down,  for  you  look  out 
of  sorts,  my  dear  !  " 

A  shudder  of  rage  passed  through  her  as  she  heard  his 
words.  Oh,  how  she  hated  herself  that  she  had  been  such 
an  imbecile  as  to  drift  into  a  position  in  which  this  wretched 
cad  could  dare  speak  to  her  as  he  would  speak  to  a  mill- 
hand  in  Milwaukee. 

Oh,  heavens  !  How  dreadful  it  was,  she  thought,  to 
loathe  and  despise  a  man,  and  yet  to  be  obliged  to  use 
him  !  It  was  all  her  brother's  fault,  who  had  placed  her 
in  such  an  odious  and  agonizing  position  !  It  seemed  as 
if  the  whole  of  humanity,  dead  and  living,  were  in  con- 
spirac}r  against  her ! 

"Look  here,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Massarene  in  a  low 
tone,  as  they  crossed  the  Speaker's  Court,  "  I'll  send  you 


312  THE  MASSAKENES. 

round  to  your  house  in  an  hour  a  line  or  two  that  you'll 
sign.  Mere  matter  of  form,  but  must  be  done,  or  I  can't 
treat  with  your  jeweler.  Sign  it,  put  it  in  a  sealed  en- 
velope, and  send  it  back  by  the  bearer.  When  I  get  it, 
I'll  take  the  club  train  at  nine  o'clock.  To  morrow's 
Sunday.  There's  nothing  odd  in  going  out  of  town  on 
Sunday." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  faintly  ;  for  it  had  never  occurred 
to  her  mind  that  Billy  would  be  business-like  with  herself. 
She  was  used  to  people  who,  whether  they  had  little  or 
much,  never  stooped  to  marchander.  Nobody  had  ever 
asked  her  to  sign  anything  before,  except  Beaumont. 

"What  do  you  want  a  signature  for?"  she  said  im- 
patiently. "  Can't  you  forget  you  sold  sausages  ?  " 

She  was  looking  at  a  brougham  entering  the  courtyard, 
and  not  at  the  face  of  William  Massarene  ;  had  she  seen 
it,  careless  as  she  was,  she  might  have  been  alarmed. 

He  did  not  reply. 

As  he  put  her  in  her  carriage,  she  said,  with  anxiety : 

"  You  won't  tell  anybody,  will  you  ?  " 

William  Massarene  smiled  grimly. 

"  A  man  who  sold  sausages  don't  come  to  be  what  I  am 
by  telling  people  what  he  does.  Telling  aren't  my 
habit,  your  Grace.  Go  straight  home  and  wait  for  my 
messenger." 

She  was  not  used  to  remembering  that  her  servants 
existed,  but  she  was  for  once  nervously  conscious  that  the 
footman  holding  open  the  carriage-door  heard  these  words, 
and  must  wonder  at  them.  Oh,  what  a  path  of  thorns 
she  had  entered  upon,  all  because  Providence,  or  the  Or- 
mes,  or  Ronnie,  or  whatever  it  was,  had  made  life  so  dif- 
ficult for  her ! 

She  did  go  straight  home,  for  she  was  conscious  that  she 
could  not  afford  to  miss  Massarene's  messenger,  who  ar- 
rived punctually  within  the  hour. 

She  glanced  feverishly  at  what  he  had  sent  her ;  a  few 
lines  printed  in  typewriting,  so  that  his  own  handwriting 
did  not  appear ;  it  seemed  to  her  inoffensive  ;  it  authorized 
him  to  pay  Beaumont  the  money  for  her,  and  get  back  the 
Otterbourne  jewels  ;  it  further  stated  that  when  he  should 
have  completed  the  transaction,  she  would  be  his  debtor 


THE  MASSARENES.  313 

for  the  sum  of  twelve  thousand  pounds  sterling.  This  last 
clause  she  did  not  like.  It  alarmed  her.  For  an  instant 
a  flash  of  good  sense  came  across  her  mind  and  suggested 
to  her  that  it  would  be  a  thousand  times  better  to  send 
for  Ronald,  even  for  any  of  the  Ormes,  and  confess  her 
position  to  one  of  them,  than  to  put  herself  in  the  power 
of  this  man  whom  she  had  cheated,  fooled,  derided,  ridi- 
culed, and  ordered  about  under  the  whip  of  her  contemp- 
tous  words.  Her  relatives  would  save  her  from  all  ex- 
posure, at  whatever  painful  cost  to  themselves.  But  her 
vanity  and  her  stubbornness  rejected  the  whispers  of  com- 
mon sense.  She  detested  Alberic  Orme,  and  her  feeling 
toward  her  brother  was  now  little  less  virulent.  "  No  !  " 
she  said  to  herself,  "rather  than  confess  myself  and 
humiliate  myself  to  either  of  them,  I  would  die  like  Sarah 
Bernhardt  in  Ixeile  / "  But  she  forgot  that  there  are 
worse  things  than  death. 

After  hesitating  for  ten  minutes,  and  looking  down 
with  disgust  on  this  paper,  which  looked  so  vulgar  with 
its  big  type-written  words,  she  decided  with  a  reckless 
plunge  into  the  unknown  to  sign  it,  and  scrawled  at  the 
bottom  of  the  lines  the  name  which  she  wrote  so  seldom, 
Clare  Otterbourne.  With  similar  haste  she  thrust  it  into 
an  envelope,  sealed  and  sent  it  down  to  Massarene's  mes- 
senger. 

She  cried  bitterly  when  it  was  irrevocably  gone  from 
her,  but  she  felt  that  she  could  do  no  less  than  she  had 
done ;  everybody  took  such  dreadful  advantage  of  poor 
Cooky's  death  ! 

"I  shall  treat  the  beast  worse  than  ever,"  she  thought,  as 
her  sobs  ceased  gradually.  "  Poignez  vilain  il  vous  oindra" 

She  had  always  beaten  her  vilain,  and  he  had  always 
submitted  and  cowed  before  her.  She  believed  that  he 
would  do  so  as  long  as  he  lived. 

For  this  satirical,  intelligent,  and  fin-de-sidcle  creature, 
so  quick  to  see  and  ridicule  the  follies  and  frailties  of 
other  creatures,  did  not  in  the  very  faintest  degree  under- 
stand the  stuff  of  which  William  Massarene  was  made. 

Meantime,  he  was  travelling  toward  Dover  in  the  club 
train  with  the  type-written  paper  safe  in  his  inner  breast- 
pocket. This  errand  pleased  him. 


314  THE  MASSABENES. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SHE  had  never  known  great  anxiety  before.  She  had 
had  many  worries,  many  troublesome  moments,  when  she 
wanted  money,  but  never  such  a  weight  of  care  as  this. 
There  had  always  been  Cocky,  on  to  whose  shoulders  she 
had  been  able  to  throw  the  blame  of  everything;  and 
whose  ingenuity  had  frequently  (for  a  consideration)  been 
of  exceeding  use  to  her.  Now  she  was  alone,  without 
even  the  solace  of  having  Harry  to  quarrel  with  and  up- 
braid; and  she  had  put  herself  and  her  secret  and  her 
signature  into  the  hands  of  William  Massarene.  When 
she  thought  of  it  she  felt  as  if  a  rush  of  ice-cold  wind 
passed  over  her. 

It  was  Sunday.  She  went  to  a  fashionable  church  and 
took  Boo  with  her,  looking  a  picture  of  childish  loveliness 
in  the  crape  frock,  and  her  big  black  hat  and  her  little 
black  silk  legs  displayed  far  above  the  knee. 

"  Mammy's  got  a  lot  o'  bills  to  pay,"  said  Boo  at  the 
schoolroom  dinner. 

"How  d'  you  know?"  asked  Jack. 

"  Cos  she  prayed  such  a  deal,"  said  his  sister.  "  She 
flopped  down  on  her  knees  and  I  think  she  cried." 

"  There  must  be  bills  then,"  said  Jack  seriously.  "  Or 
p'rhaps,"  he  added,  "  'twas  only  the  church.  Churches 
is  always  sorrowful." 

"  I  don't  mind  'em,"  said  Boo.  "  There's  a  lot  o'  fun 
in  people's  bonnets.  I  drawed  two  or  three  bonnets  in 
my  Prayer  Book." 

Their  mother  was,  indeed,  as  Boo's  observant  eyes  had 
discovered,  greatly  disturbed  and  apprehensive.  Through- 
out the  service  of  the  fashionable  church  she  w^as  absorbed 
in  one  thought :  would  Billy  play  her  false?  Would  he, 
if  he  were  true  to  her,  be  in  time  ?  Might  not  Beaumont 
be  away  from  Paris  for  the  Sunday,  like  so  many  Pari- 
sian tradesmen ;  he  had  a  country  house,  she  knew,  at 


THE  MASSARENES.  315 

Compigne.  What  would  happen  to  her  if,  when  the  men 
from  Coutts's  came,  and  she  had  not  the  veritable  dia- 
monds to  give  ? 

Exposure,  complete  and  inevitable,  must  follow ;  when 
the  jewels  should  be  brought  to  valuation  Hurstmanceaux 
and  the  Ormes  must  at  least  know  the  truth,  and  that 
seemed  to  her  worse  than  to  be  pilloried,  as  people  were 
of  old,  and  stoned  by  the  multitude. 

She  thought  she  could  trust  "  Billy  "  ;  she  felt  that  a 
hard-headed  man  of  business  would  not  go  over  to  Paris 
on  so  grave  an  errand  and  leave  it  undone  ;  but  she  could 
not  be  sure,  a  thousand  things  might  happen.  Channel 
steamers  never  do  get  wrecked,  but  the  one  in  which  he 
crossed  might  do  so;  the  train  might  come  to  grief ;  Paris 
might  be  in  revolution  ;  Paris  made  revolutions  as  rapidly 
as  it  made  omeletts  for  breakfast;  she  was  not  naturally 
imaginative,  but  in  this  tension  of  terror  her  fancy  con- 
jured up  innumerable  horrors  as  she  apparently  kneeled  in 
prayer. 

When  she  came  home  she  shut  herself  up  in  her  bed- 
room, said  she  had  a  headache  and  took  a  little  chloral. 
As  she  lay  on  her  sofa,  with  a  handkerchief  over  her  eyes, 
she  heard  the  children  trundling  down  the  staircase  to  go 
for  their  afternoon  drive ;  they  always  were  driven  some- 
where into  the  country  on  Sunday  afternoons  to  avoid  the 
crowds  and  noise  of  the  parks.  She  heard  Jack's  voice 
shouting  a  negro  melody  as  he  jumped  down  three  stairs 
at  a  time.  She  got  up  despite  her  headache  and  her 
chloral,  opened  her  door  which  led  on  to  the  stairs,  and 
caught  the  little  sinner  as  he  passed  her  by  his  blouse. 

"How  can  you  let  the  duke  disgrace  himself  so?  "  she 
said  sternly  to  the  governess.  "  The  very  boys  in  the 
street  respect  the  seventh  day." 

Then,  still  with  her  fair  hand  closed  fast  on  the  blouse 
she  said  to  the  wearer  of  it :  "I  am  shocked  at  you,  Jack ! 
Go  upstairs  to  your  room  and  stay  there.  You  do  not  go 
out  to-day." 

The  great  tears  brimmed  up  in  Jack's  eyes,  but  he 
would  not  cry ;  he  looked  at  her  with  a  fixed  reproach- 
ful, indignant  look,  very  like  Brancepeth. 

The   governess   and   the  nurses  all  pleaded  for  him; 


316  THE  MASSARENES. 

everyone  in  the  household  loved  Jack  as  they  hated  Boo. 
But  it  was  in  vain ;  his  mother  was  in  that  kind  of  mood 
when  every  woman  must  have  a  victim,  and  he  was  all 
that  offered  to  her.  He  was  taken  upstairs  to  be  locked 
in  his  chamber  by  a  sympathetic  under-nurse,  who  whis- 
pered consolation.  Boo,  half  vexed,  half  pleased,  called 
after  him  with  much  self-righteousness  :  "  I  telled  you 
never  to  sing  those  naughty  songs.  Didn't  I  tell  you, 
Jack?  " 

Jack  did  not  reply  or  look  round ;  he  went  manfully 
onward  and  upward  to  his  doom.  His  mother  retired  to 
her  own  repose,  whilst  Boo,  with  the  two  other  little  boys, 
descended  down  to  the  entrance  hall.  She  was  glad  to 
think  of  Jack  shut  up  in  solitude  and  fretting  his  heart 
out  this  fine  clear  rainless  afternoon  in  May. 

The  governess  and  the  head  nurse  whispered  together 
in  the  landau  as  to  the  duchess's  strange  unkindness  to 
her  eldest  son.  Boo,  who  never  lost  a  word  of  their 
whispering,  when  she  sat  between  them,  turned  up  her 
pretty  nose  :  "Mammy  don't  like  Jack  'cos  he's  got  every- 
thing ;  she's  got  to  give  him  her  jewels." 

For  Boo,  unseen  and  forgotten,  had  been  sitting  in  the 
next  room,  playing  with  her  big  doll  which  talked,  whilst 
the  scene  concerning  the  jewels  had  taken  place  between 
her  mother  and  her  uncle.  Boo  enjoyed  anything  which 
bothered  Mammy.  Only  Boo  was  of  opinion  that  the 
jewels  ought  to  be  her  own,  not  Jack's. 

Meantime  poor  Jack,  crying  his  heart  out  on  his  bed, 
thought,  "  Whatever  good  is  it  being  a  duke?  Two  of 
'em  have  had  to  die  one  after  the  other,  and  I've  got  to  be 
shut  up  here.  And  how  mean  it  was  of  Boo  to  crow  over 
me.  Boo's  so  like  mammy.  I  wish  there  were  no  women 
and  no  girls." 

At  that  moment  the  sympathetic  under-nurse  brought 
him  two  peaches  and  a  raspberry  ice,  which  she  had 
begged  for  from  the  kitchen,  and  Jack  kissed  her  and 
thought  better  of  her  sex. 

"  I  wish  all  women  were  dead  'cept  you,  Harriet,"  he 
said  tenderly. 

"  Oh,  your  Grace,  don't  say  that,"  said  Harriet.  "  But 
it  was  to  be  sure  cruel  unkind  of  your  mamma." 


THE  MASSAEENES.  317 

"  I  hate  mammy,"  said  Jack  with  a  deep  drawn  breath. 
"  She  took  away  my  Punch,  and  she's  sent  away  Harry." 

"  Oh,  your  Grace,  don't  let  yourself  blame  your  mam- 
ma," said  the  good  nursemaid.  "  But  for  sure  it  is  hard 
to  be  shut  up  here  on  a  bright  breezy  day.  But  eat  your 
peaches,  dear,  'twill  all  be  the  same  to-morrow." 

44  But  you're  shut  up  too,  Harriet,"  said  Jack,  regard- 
ing her  thoughtfully. 

44  Law,  yes,  sir,  I  never  hardly  gets  an  hour  out." 

"  But  you'd  like  to  go  out  ?  "' 

44  Yes,  sir  ;  but  them  as  it  above  me,  you  see,  don't  think 
of  that." 

Jack  ceased  munching  his  peach  and  looked  at  her 
gravely.  "  I  think  that's  very  wrong.  When  I'm  a  man, 
Harriet,  everybody  shall  have  hours  out." 

44  You  dear  little  soul,"  thought  Harriet,  "  you  think  so 
now,  but  when  you're  a  man  I  dessay  you'll  be  like  all  the 
others,  and  think  only  of  yourself." 

44  No,  Harriet,"  said  Jack,  solemnly  divining  her  thoughts, 
44  no,  I  sha'n't  forget." 

The  solace  of  having  hurt  Jack  only  momentarily 
diverted  his  mother  from  her  torturing  thoughts  for  a 
brief  space  of  time.  Her  mind  returned  in  fretting  and 
feverish  anxiety  to  the  mission  on  which  William  Massa- 
rene  had  gane. 

Two  or  three  intimate  friends  were  coming  to  dine 
with  her  at  eight  o'clock.  She  wrote  a  few  hasty  words 
and  put  them  off  on  the  score  of  her  headache  ;  they 
were  intimate  friends,  and  what  is  intimacy  worth  if  it 
does  not  enable  us  to  sacrifice  our  intimates  to  ourselves? 
The  notes  sent,  she  went  to  sleep  and  slept  fitfully  for 
some  hours.  She  really  felt  ill,  for  she  was  so  unused  to 
severe  mental  disturbance  that  it  affected  her  physical 
health.  She  would  have  liked  to  send  for  her  physician, 
but  she  was  afraid  he  would  perceive  that  she  had  some- 
thing on  her  mind.  She  saw  in  the  mirror  that  she  did 
not  look  like  herself. 

She  was  so  unused  to  being  alone,  that  solitude  was  in 
itself  an  illness  to  her.  She  had  no  resource  of  any  kind; 
everything  bored  her  except  the  life  she  was  used  to  lead. 
She  could  never  imagine  why  people  read  books  or  wrote 


318  THE  MASSARENES. 

them.  Even  the  newspapers  she  had  never  read,  except 
when  they  had  had  something  about  herself  or  Cocky. 

William  Massarene  had  said,  "  Mind  you  are  alone," 
and  she  felt  that  it  would  be  the  height  of  imprudence  to 
have  any  of  her  friends  with  her  when  he  should  make 
his  appearance  at  ten  o'clock.  She  took  a  bowl  of  hot 
soup,  a  little  claret,  and  a  little  fruit,  and  felt  better.  She 
had  herself  arrayed  in  a  tea-gown  of  crape,  with  loose 
floating  sleeves  and  a  long  train  which  trailed  after  her ; 
it  was  very  becoming  ;  her  hair  was  loosely  wound  round 
her  head,  and  a  high  jet  comb  was  stuck  in  it.  She  went 
down  and  into  her  boudoir.  It  was  eight  o'clock.  She 
had  forgotten  Jack.  Lights  shaded  with  big  butterfly 
shades  were  burning  low.  The  room  was  full  of  the 
scent  of  lilies  of  the  valley.  It  was  a  nest  for  human 
nightingales.  And  she  had  to  wait  for  an  odious  brute 
out  of  Dakota,  who  had  got  her  signature  for  twelve 
thousand  pounds  !  How  disgracefully  inappropriate  to 
the  boudoir  and  to  herself ! 

There  were  several  rings  at  the  door-bell  which  echoed 
through  the  hall  below  ;  but  no  one  came  for  her. 

She  felt  it  was  a  blessing  that  Harry  could  not  come  ; 
he  had  been  used  to  racing  up  the  stairs  when  he  heard 
she  was  unwell,  and  forcing  his  entry  by  right  of  usage. 
And  yet  in  a  way  she  missed  Harry.  She  had  always 
been  able  to  make  him  believe  anything. 

Ten  o'clock  struck  at  last.  She  shivered  when  she 
heard  it.  If  the  man  did  not  come,  what  on  earth  would 
she  do  in  the  morning  ?  She  almost  resolved  to  take  the 
jewel-safe  and  go  out  of  England.  Certainly  neither 
Ronald  nor  the  Ormes  would  pursue  her  as  a  common 
thief.  But  after  a  moment's  consideration  she  knew  that 
to  do  this  would  be  useless.  They  would  find  her  wher- 
ever she  went,  and  her  life  would  be  ruined.  No,  she  re- 
flected, there  was  nothing  but  to  trust  to  Billy.  She  had 
always  had  immeasurable  power  over  him,  and  moved  him 
about  like  a  pawn  at  chess.  She  did  not  doubt  that  shs 
would  always  be  able  to  do  the  same.  Ce  quefemme  vent! 
was  her  gospel. 

She  belonged  to  a  world  in  which  the  grace  and  charm 
of  women  are  still  very  dominant  features ;  but  William 


THE  MASSARENES.  319 

Massarene  belonged  to  one  in  which  woman  was  repre- 
sented by  a  round  O,  except  in  as  far  as  she  was  wanted 
for  child-bearing  and  household  work.  In  her  latest 
transaction  with  him  she  had  confided  in  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  gentleman  ;  she  had  ignored  what  she  knew  so 
well,  that  he  was  but  a  low  brute  varnished  by  money. 
She  expected  him  to  behave  as  a  gentleman  would  have 
done  in  similar  circumstances,  forgetting  that  he  had 
neither  blood  nor  breeding  in  him. 

She  watched  the  movements  of  the  hands  of  the  little 
timepiece  with  intense  anxiety.  The  tidal  train  arrived  in 
Cannon  Street  at  half-past  nine.  He  might  have  been 
here  by  ten.  It  was  twenty  minutes  past  ten  when  the 
bell  downstairs  rang  loudly.  It  was  he  !  A  few  moments 
later  a  manservant  ushered  him  into  her  presence;  she 
had  given  orders  that  obey  should  do  so  immediately  on 
his  arrival. 

He  was  hot  from  his  journey  and  dusty,  and  had  some 
of  the  smoke  of  funnel  and  engine  upon  him  ;  he  had 
never  been  more  unlovely:  he  had  his  hat  on  his  head  as 
he  entered  and  his  overcoat  on  his  shoulders;  he  took 
both  off  slowly  as  a  man  does  in  whose  eyes  good  clothes 
are  precious,  and  she  watched  them  with  her  nerves  strung 
to  the  highest  pitch,  yet  her  intense  agitation  not  exclud- 
ing a  vivid  anger  at  his  want  of  ceremony.  His  coat 
carefully  laid  on  a  chair,  and  his  gloves  on  the  top  of  it, 
he  came  and  sat  down  before  her,  square,  solid,  hard  as  a 
piece  of  old  Roman  masonry. 

44  Well  ? "  she  said  breathlessly.  How  cruel  it  was  to 
keep  her  in  such  suspense ! 

44  It's  all  right,  my  lady,"  he  replied  briefly. 

She  raised  herself  on  her  couch,  animation  and  color 
returning  to  her  face,  light  to  her  eyes,  warmth  to  her 
face. 

44  Oh,  that  is  very  good  of  you  !  "  she  exclaimed.  44 1 
am  very  grateful,  indeed  I  am." 

William  Massarene  laughed  a  little,  deep  down  in  his 
throat. 

"  Gratitude  don't  wash,  my  dear.  I  never  took  a  red 
cent  of  it  in  change  for  any  goods  of  mine." 

"But  I  am  grateful,"  she  said,  disconcerted  and  vaguely 


320  THE  MASSARENES. 

distressed.     "  It  was  very  good  of  you.     What  have  you 
done  with  them?     Where  are  they?  " 

He  took  a  large  packet  out  of  his  inner  breast-pocket. 

"I  had  the  tiara  dismounted  because  'twas  safer  to  carry 
it  so.  You'll  know  how  to  put  it  together,  I  guess." 

With  a  scream  of  relief  and  delight  she  sprang  up  and 
seized  the  packet,  tears  of  joy  welling  up  into  her  eyes. 
i  "Verify  'em,"  said  Massarene,  and  she  undid  the 
parcel  and  saw  once  more  the  great  dazzling  egg  diamond 
and  all  its  lesser  luminaries.  He  watched  her  as  a  tom- 
cat on  the  tiles  with  gloating  eyes  may  watch  some  white 
graceful  feline  form  walking  amongst  roses  in  a  garden. 

44  Verify  'em,"  he  repeated — 4C  count  'em." 

"  I  have,  I  have,"  she  said  in  her  ecstasy.  44  They  are 
the  Otterbourne  diamonds  just  as  I  gave  them  to  Beau- 
mount.  Oh,  my  dear  good  man,  how  can  I  thank  you  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer ;  he  breathed  so  loudly  and  heavily 
that  she  thought  he  was  going  to  have  a  fit,  and  she 
could  not  but  wish  that  he  might  have  one.  Like  a  child 
with  a  toy  she  took  the  jewels  and  began  fitting  them  to- 
gether to  make  the  ornament  she  had  so  often  worn. 

44  Oh,  how  can  I  ever  be  seen  without  them  !  It  is  so 
monstrous,  so  brutal  to  shut  them  up  at  Coutts's  unseen 
for  all  those  years  !  " 

As  soon  as  she  had  escaped  from  one  danger  she,  woman- 
like, bewailed  another  affliction. 

44  How  did  you  get  over  Beaumont,"  she  asked  :  44  was 
he  disagreeable  about  me  ?  " 

44  No ;  like  a  man  of  sense  he  was  glad  to  get  his  money  and 
asked  no  questions  whence  it  came.  Here  is  his  receipt." 

He  held  it  before  her,  but  he  did  not  let  it  go  out  of  his 
hands.  She  saw  that  Beaumont  had  received  of  William 
Massarene,  on  behalf  of  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  the 
sum  of  three  hundred  thousand  francs  plus  interest.  A 
painful  flush  rose  over  her  face  as  she  saw  that,  and  she 
realized  more  distinctly  what  she  had  done. 

44  How  can  I  ever  repay  you  ?  "  she  murmured. 

William  Massarene's  thin  tight-shut  lips  smiled,  not 
agreeably.  He  put  the  receipt  back  in  his  breast-pocket. 

44  And  my  signature  ?  "  she  said  timidly,  the  first  time 
in  all  her  life  that  timidity  had  ever  assailed  her. 


THE  MAS8ARENE8.  321 

Then  he  smiled  outright. 

6C I  ain't  Billy  the  scorned  no  more,  am  I,  my  dear  ? 
Where's  your  cheek,  my  lady  ?  " 

Mouse,  bending  over  the  tiara  which  she  was  building 
up,  turned  sick  at  his  tone.  She  dared  not  resent  it.  She 
was  vaguely  but  intensely  alarmed,  and  she  was  aware 
that  this  man,  so  long  her  butt  and  jest,  was  her  master. 

He  sat  with  his  hands  still  on  his  knees  and  with  a 
horrible  leer  on  his  dull  eyes,  gazing  at  her  as  a  fox  might 
look  at  a  silver  pheasant  from  wrhich  nothing  divided  him. 
He  had  always  succeeded  in  everything,  and  now  he  had 
succeeded  in  getting  quid  pro  quo  for  all  he  had  endured 
and  expended  for  her. 

As  far  as  his  sluggish  passions  could  be  aroused  they 
were  excited  for  her ;  she  had  aroused  in  him  one  of  those 
passions  of  mature  years  which  are  more  slow  yet  more 
brutal  than  those  of  youth.  But  stronger  still  than  this 
was  his  grim  pleasure  in  her  humiliation,  in  her  silence, 
in  her  subserviency. 

And  what  a  fool  she  was,  despite  all  her  fine  airs,  and 
cool  wit,  and  sovereign  disdain  ! 

He  continued  to  gaze  at  her  fixedly,  the  veins  swelling 
like  cords  on  his  forehead,  his  stertorous  breath  as  loud  as 
the  gasp  of  an  engine,  his  small  grey  eyes  grown  red  and 
shining  luridly. 

"  My  signature  ?  "  she  repeated  in  an  unsteady  voice. 

"  You've  got  the  jewels,  my  beauty.  You  can't  have 
no  more." 

"  Then  it  is  not  generosity  !  "  said  Mouse  passionately, 
and  very  unwarily  betraying  her  unfounded  hopes. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  he  answered,  "  I  never  said  'twas." 
Then  he  put  his  two  big  knotted  yellow  hands  one  on 
each  knee,  and  looked  at  her  mercilessly.  "  Think  I'll 
take  my  payment  now,  or  else  the  di'monds,"  he  said, 
with  a  vile  chuckle. 

She  felt  his  odious  grasp  on  her  bare  arms  and  his 
loathsome  breath  on  her  cheek. 

"  Don't    cry    out,    my    beauty,    or    you'll    lose  your 
di'monds,"  he  said,  with  his  lips  on  her  shell-like  ear. 
"  You've  got  to  be  fond  of  Billy  now  I " 
21 


322  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ON  the  morrow,  at  the  appointed  hour,  the  real  Otter- 
bourne  jewels  were  consigned  to  the  representatives  of 
the  Otterbourne  bankers,  and  Hurstmanceaux,  like  all 
kind-hearted  persons,  now  that  he  had  got  his  own  way, 
felt  sorry  he  had  been  obliged  to  enforce  it,  especially  as 
he  heard  that  his  sister  was  unwell,  and  could  see  no  one. 
"  Poor  little  Sourisette,"  he  thought  remorsefully.  "  Per- 
haps I  am  too  hard  on  her.  She  had  a  beast  of  a  hus- 
band. She  is  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed." 

Alwa}7s  ready  to  forgive,  he  called  in  Stanhope  Street 
more  than  once,  but  she  refused  to  see  him.  The  chil- 
dren told  him  she  was  unwell  and  invisible. 

Boo  came  flying  down  the  staircase  between  the  palms 
and  pointsettias  in  all  the  glee  which  to  be  the  bearer  of 
an  unpleasant  message  naturally  afforded  her. 

"  Mammy  says  she  won't  see  you  ever  any  more,  uncle 
Ronald,"  said  this  miniature  woman,  with  much  con- 
temptuous dignity.  "  She  would  like,  if  you  please,  that 
you  shouldn't  speak  to  her  even  in  the  street." 

Boo  felt  very  important,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall,  in  her  crape  frock,  with  her  black  silk  legs,  and  her 
golden  cascade  of  hair  on  her  shoulders,  as  she  delivered 
herself  of  this  message,  and  pursed  up  her  lips  like  two 
red  geranium  buds. 

"  Tell  your  mother  that  her  desires  shall  be  obeyed," 
said  Hurstmanceaux,  and  he  turned  and  went  out,  fol- 
lowed by  the  saucy  echoes  of  Boo's  triumphant  laugh. 

She  never  liked  her  uncle  Ronald ;  she  was  very  pleased 
to  see  such  a  big,  tall,  grown-up  man  go  away  in  dis- 
comfiture. 

"You  should  have  said  it  kinder,  Boo,"  murmured 
Jack,  from  above  on  the  staircase. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Boo,  with  her  chin  in  the  air.  "  He 
don't  ever  give  us  anything,  at  least,  hardly  ever." 

"Oh,   yes,   he   does,"   said   Jack,   with   remonstrance. 


THE  MASS  A  PENES.  323 

"  And  she's  cruel  nasty.  She's  took  away  the  Punch,  and 
sent  away  Harry."  He  did  not  much  like  his  uncle 
Ronald,  but  he  was  sorry  for  him  now  that  he,  too,  was 
dismissed. 

Hurstmanceaux  was  sad  at  heart  as  he  walked  down 
Great  Stanhope  Street  into  the  Park ;  he  was  full  of  com- 
punction for  having,  as  he  imagined,  wronged  his  sister 
about  the  jewels,  and  he  was  deeply  wounded  by  the  un- 
forgiving ingratitude  of  her  feeling  toward  himself.  He 
had  made  many  sacrifices  to  her  in  the  past,  and  although 
a  generous  temper  does  not  count  its  gifts,  he  could  not 
but  feel  that  he  received  poor  reward  for  a  devotion  to 
her  interests  which  had  impoverished  him  to  a  degree  he 
could  ill  support.  The  day  was  bright  and  breezy,  the 
flowers  blazed  with  color,  the  season  was  at  its  height, 
everyone  and  everything  around  him  was  gay,  but  he 
himself  felt  that  cheerless  depression  of  spirit  which  is 
born  in  us  of  the  ingratitude  of  those  we  cherish. 

Katherine  Massarene  passed  him,  driving  herself  a  pair 
of  roan  ponies.  She  thought  how  weary  and  grave  he 
looked,  so  unlike  the  man  who  had  laughed  and  talked 
with  her  as  they  had  gone  together  over  the  snowy 
pastures  and  the  frozen  ditches  of  the  hunting  country 
more  than  two  years  before. 

"  It's  really  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence,  Ronnie, 
not  to  marry  the  Massarene  heiress,"  said  Daddy  Gwyl- 
lian,  that  evening,  in  the  stalls  at  Covent  Garden,  letting 
fall  his  lorgnon,  after  a  prolonged  examination  of  the 
Massarene  box. 

"I  never  knew  that  Providence  kept  a  Bureau  de  Mar- 
riage," replied  Hurstmanceaux,  "and  I  do  not  see  what 
right  you  have  to  speak  of  that  lady  as  if  she  were  a  filly 
without  a  bidder  at  Tattersall's." 

"  Without  a  bidder  !  Lord,  no !  She  refuses  'em,  they 
say,  fifty  a  week.  But  you  know,  Ronnie,  you  do  fetch 
women  uncommonly  ;  look  what  scores  of  'em  have  been 
in  love  with  you.  " 

"  If  they  have,  I  am  sure  it  has  benefited  them  very 
little,  and  myself  not  at  all,"  replied  Hurstmanceaux, 
very  ungraciously. 

"  She?  keeps  a  circular  printed— a  stamped  form  of  re- 


324  THE  MASSARENES. 

fusal,"  said  Daddy  Gwyllian  with  glee.  "Sends  'em  out 
in  batches.  Have  a  mind  to  propose  to  her  myself,  just 
for  the  fun  of  getting  a  circular." 

"Your  wit  is  as  admirable  as  your  invention  is  orig- 
inal," said  Hurstmanceaux,  with  much  impatience,  glanc- 
ing, despite  himself,  at  the  box  on  the  grand  tier,  where 
the  classic  profile  and  white  shoulders  of  Katherine  Mas- 
sarene  were  visible  beside  the  large,  gorgeous,  and  much- 
jeweled  person  of  her  mother. 

Margaret  Massarene  disliked  the  opera-house.  What 
she  called  the  "  noise  "  always  reminded  her  of  the  bray- 
ing of  bands  and  the  rattling  of  shots  on  a  day  of  political 
excitement  in  Kerosene  City.  But  she  was  not  displeased 
to  sit  in  that  blaze  of  light  with  her  di'monds  on  her 
ample  bosom,  and  feel  that  she  was  as  great  a  lady  as  any 
other  there  ;  and  she  was  pro  ad  and  pleased  to  see  the 
number  of  high  and  mighty  gentlemen  who  came  to  make 
their  bow  in  her  box,  and  with  whom  Katherine  "  talked 
music  "  in  the  most  recondite  and  artistic  fashion. 

"  That's  the  Duchess's  brother  down  there,"  she  whis- 
pered, as  she  turned  her  lorgnon  on  Hurstmanceaux. 

"  It  is,"  replied  Katherine. 

"  Why  don't  he  come  up  here  like  the  rest  ? "  she 
asked.  "  He's  the  best  looking  of  them  all." 

"  He  has  never  left  his  card  on  you,"  answered  her 
daughter.  "  It  would  be  very  bad  manners  indeed  if  he 
came  here." 

"  And  why  hain't  he  left  his  card  ?  I'm  sure  we've  done 
enough  for  his  sister." 

"  He  probably  does  not  feel  that  any  gratitude  is  obliga- 
tory on  him.  He  probably  does  not  approve  of  her  ac- 
cepting favors  from  strangers." 

"  Then  he's  born  a  century  out  of  his  time,"  said  Mrs. 
Massarene,  with  the  acuteness  which  occasionally  flashed 
up  in  her.  "  In  these  days,  my  dear,  everybody  takes  all 
they  can  lay  their  hands  on " 

"  Hush !  "  said  Katherine,  as  Jean  de  Reszske  came  on 
to  the  stage. 

Margaret  Massarene  would  have  preferred  a  companion 
who  would  have  worn  big  pearls,  and  had  some  color  in 
her  gown,  and  who  would  have  talked  all  through  "  th§ 


THE  MASSARENES,  325 

music,"  and  would  have  made  a  sign  with  a  flower  or  a 
fan  to  that  handsome  man  down  there  to  come  up  with 
Daddy  Gwyllian  and  chat  with  them. 

"  Why  didn't  my  lord  come  up  with  ye  ?  "  she  asked,  as 
Daddy  did  appear. 

"  His  lordship's  music  mad,  ma'am,"  replied  Daddy,  who 
delighted  in  adopting  her  style ;  "  never  misses  a  season  at 
Bayreuth,  or  a  premiere  of  Saint-Saens's." 

"He's  never  left  a  card,  and  'tis  rude,"  said  Mrs. 
Massarene.  "  We  know  all  his  sisters  and  brothers-in- 
law." 

"It  is  rude,  madam,"  assented  Daddy,  ubut  men  don't 
go  often  where  they're  liable  to  meet  their  own  families." 

"That's  a  heathen  sentiment,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene 
severely. 

"Only  human  nature,"  said  Daddy  cheerfully.  "Hu- 
man nature  is  much  the  same,  dear  lady,  whether  heathen, 
Chinee,  or  Christian." 

"Ye  don't  know  much  about  the  Chinese,  sir,"  said 
Mrs.  Massarene.  "They're  that  wrapped  up  in  their 
families  that  they're  always  agoin'  to  their  graves ;  not 
like  the  folks  here,  who  poke  a  dead  person  into  the  earth 
and  give  orders  to  a  florist,  and  then  thinks  of  'em  never 
no  more.  The  Chinese  pray  to  their  dead ;  'tis  very 
touching,  though  it  may  be  an  offence  to  Deity." 

"I  imagine,  ma'am,  their  sensibilities  are  not  blunted 
by  death  duties,"  said  Daddy  rather  crossly ;  he  disliked 
being  corrected,  and  he  disliked  being  taken  aupied  de  la 
lettre:  it  is  highly  inconvenient  to  anyone  who  has  the 
reputation  of  a  humorist. 


S28  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

-V 

BKANCEFETH,  like  Hurstmanceaux,  was  sincerely  un- 
happy through  her,  for  a  woman  whom  men  love  much, 
despite  her  faults  and  caprices,  has  an  almost  unlimited 
power  of  worrying  and  of  torturing  their  less  complex 
and  more  kindly  natures.  The  breaking  of  a  habit  is  al- 
ways painful,  and  he  had  an  affectionate  soul.  To  have  the 
door  of  Stanhope  Street  shut  in  his  face  hurt  him  as  it 
hurts  a  kind-hearted  St.  Bernard  dog  to  be  shut  out  of  an 
accustomed  house  and  left  to  pine  on  the  area  pavemento 

She  swept  past  him  in  her  carriage  with  a  distant  bow 
which  cut  him  to  the  quick.  Pride  kept  him  from  calling 
at  her  residence,  but  he  could  not  help  haunting  the  street 
to  see  the  little  black  forms  and  golden  heads  of  the  chil- 
dren trotting  off  on  their  noonday  walk,  or  Jack,  in  soli- 
tary manhood,  riding  with  his  groom. 

There  was  no  one  to  whom  he  could  appeal 

Her  sister,  Carrie  Wisbeach,  the  only  one  of  her  family 
who  had  ever  liked  him,  had  been  three  months  away  on 
a  yachting  journey  round  the  world ;  and  he  felt,  without 
.3ver  hearing  it  said,  that  her  people  and  her  set  approved 
the  conduct  of  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  in  having 
broken  with  him  ;  they  approved  her  more  than  if  she  had 
married  him. 

"Mammy's  took  away  my  Punch,  Harry — the  beautiful 
Punch  you  giv'd  me,"  said  Jack,  in  woebegone  accents; 
it  had  been  a  real  Punch,  show  box,  puppets,  a  Toby  that 
squeaked,  and  a  set  of  pan  dean  pipes — a  delicious  toy  with 
which  Jack  could  make  believe  to  be  "  the  man  in  the 
street "  to  his  great  ecstasy. 

"  She  says  I'm  a  little  beast  ?cos  I  have  every  thin'. 
What  have  I  got?  She's  even  tooked  away  the  Punch. 
I  haven't  got  anything,"  said  the  poor  little  man  with 
tragic  intensity. 

"Taken  away  the  Punch?  Oh,  lord!  That  is  real 
mean,"  said  Brancepeth,  with  his  face  growing  very  dark. 


THE  MAS8AEENE8.  327 

"Merely  because  I  gave  it  you?  What  devils  women 
are  ! " 

"  I  always  telled  you,  Harry,"  said  Jack  solemnly.  "  I 
always  telled  you  that  mammy  could  be  nasty.  You've 
set  her  back  up,  that's  what  you've  done." 

Jack  was  sitting  astride  of  an  Exmoor  pony  with  his 
left  hand  resting  on  the  crupper,  and  his  face  turned  full 
on  his  friend  in  melancholy  reproach.  Harry  was  on  the 
pedestrians'  side  of  the  rails  and  had  stopped  the  rider 
under  a  tree  in  full  fresh  leaf.  This  was  the  only  way 
now  in  which  he  could  see  the  children,  when  they  were 
out  walking  or  riding,  and  he  managed  to  waylay  them. 
The  nursery  doors  were  closed  against  him,  and  he  felt 
his  exile  as  bitterly  as  the  cast-out  Peri  of  the  poem. 

"You  should  have  put  up  with  mammy,"  said  Jack, 
with  the  superiority  of  a  sage,  "  'cos  you  can't  come  to 
us  now  she's  angry  with  you.  And  when  she's  angry 
once,  it  lasts  a  long  long  while,  for  ever,  and  ever,  and 
ever." 

His  tone  was  very  impressive ;  he  spoke  as  if  he  had  a 
hundred  years'  experience  behind  him ;  and  his  big  soft 
black  eyes  had  tears  in  them ;  he  missed  his  Harry. 

"  You  dear  little  beggar ! "  said  Brancepeth  tenderly, 
but  glancing  apprehensively  at  the  groom  on  the  off-side. 
"  Don't  fidget  your  pony's  mouth,  Jack ;  keep  your  bridle 
hand  quiet,  low  down  and  quiet." 

"  That's  the  little  Duke,"  said  some  work-people  walk- 
ing past,  and  smiled  good-naturedty. 

"  What  a  little  love  ! "  said  some  ladies. 

"  You've  got  Tom  Tit,  Jack,  and  you'd  better  gallop 
him,"  said  Brancepeth,  nervously  conscious  of  the  open 
ears  of  the  stolid  and  wooden-faced  groom.  "Don't  let 
his  Grace  hustle  his  pony ;  there  can't  be  a  worse  habit," 
he  said  to  that  functionary.  "  Never  hustle  your  cattle, 
Jack,  do  you  understand?  Off  with  3^011,  dear  I  I  want 
to  see  how  you  go." 

He  watched  the  pretty  figure  of  the  boy  as  Tom  Tit 
skurried  over  the  tan  with  his  undocked  tail  switching  the 
ground,  and  his  sturdy,  shaggy  little  head  pulling  wil- 
fully at  the  bridle. 

"  Took  his  Punch  away  !     Good  lord !     What  out-and* 


328  THE  MA88ABENE8. 

out  brutes  women  are,"  he  thought,  as  lie  leaned  over  the 
rail  under  the  green  leaves  in  the  sunshine. 

But  his  heart  was  heavy  and  his  conscience  ill  at  ease, 
and  he  envied  Hurstmanceaux  the  power  he  had  over 
these  children  and  their  future. 

"  Harry's  been  hard  hit  over  the  Oaks,"  said  one  of  his 
friends,  staring  after  him,  to  another  as  the}^  passed. 
"  Never  saw  him  look  so  blue  in  all  his  days." 

u  No ;  he's  got  to  marry  Lady  Kenny,  I  suspect,"  said 
another  of  his  friends,  using  the  title  by  which  she  had 
been  known  to  the  town  so  long. 

"  If  I  go  on  as  I  am  doing  now,  what  shall  I  be  when 
that  dear  little  beggar's  a  man  ?  "  he  thought.  He  felt 
that  he  would  be  a  very  poor  example  for  the  child  he 
loved.  He  felt  that  Jack,  who  loved  him  in  return,  would 
get  no  good  from  him,  but  might  be  led  into  much  evil. 
"  I'll  try  and  pull  up,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  If  I'm  alive 
twenty  years  hence,  I  should  like  those  little  chaps  to  be 
the  better  not  the  worse  through  knowing  me." 

He  sighed  as  he  thought  so,  and  then  he  laughed  at 
himself  for  being  in  such  a  mood.  They  were  Cocky's 
sons,  of  course !  Why  should  he  bother  about  them  ? 
His  laugh  was  bitter,  but  his  heart  was  heavy. 

She  had  used  up  all  the  best  years  of  his  life,  and  beg- 
gared him  to  boot,  and  he  had  no  more  power  over  her 
than  if  he  had  been  the  crossing-sweeper  yonder  in  St. 
George's  Place. 

Harry  was  not  very  wise,  and  the  ways  of  his  life  had 
not  been  prudent,  but  a  seriousness  and  sadness  which  he 
had  never  known  came  over  him  as  he  watched  the  Exmoor 
pony  till  it  was  out  of  sight,  and  then  walked  on  by  him- 
self in  the  opposite  direction  toward  Apsley  House. 

The  next  week  he  had  a  long  interview  with  his  father, 
and  another  with  his  Colonel,  and  in  a  week  or  two  more 
he  sent  in  his  papers. 

"I  shall  never  alter  the  pace  here,"  he  said  to  his  father, 
who,  much  relieved  that  he  did  not  hear  Harry  was  going 
to  marry  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  said,  cordially : 
"  No,  my  dear  boy,  we  can't  get  out  of  the  swill  till  we're 
clear  of  the  stye  !  "  By  which  elegant  metaphor  he  meant 
life  in  London. 


THfi  MASSAEENES.  329 

It  was  growing  hot  and  close  in  May  fair  and  Belgravia, 
and  Jack  went  for  his  last  ride  in  the  Park  one  sultry 
misty  morning  when  the  sky  was  like  a  grey  woolen 
blanket,  and  the  Serpentine  resembled  a  dull  steel  mirror 
as  it  reflected  the  forms  of  the  ill-fed  and  melancholy 
water-birds. 

Tom  Tit  and  Jack  were  going  down  on  the  morrow 
with  the  rest  of  the  juvenile  household  to  the  country. 
Their  mother  was  already  away  from  London. 

Jack  was  worrying  his  mind  with  wondering  how  he 
should  see  his  favorite  friend  in  the  country.  In  other 
years  Harry  had  generally  been  where  they  were,  that  is 
to  say,  when  they  accompanied  their  mother  to  Homburg, 
or  Carlsbad,  or  Cowes,  or  Staghurst,  or  Scotland.  But 
Jack  was  uncomfortably  and  dimly  conscious  that  those 
pleasant  days  were  over  and  were  not  likely  to  be  re- 
newed. It  is  hard  at  his  age  to  have  to  look  back  to  the 
past  with  regret.  But  Jack  felt  that  nothing  in  his  pres- 
ent was  likely  to  be  so  agreeable  as  those  merry  days 
when  his  mother  and  Harry  had  been  such  good  friends. 

It  was  very  warm,  heavy  weather ;  even  Tom  Tit  had 
not  much  scamper  in  him,  and  his  rider  let  him  amble 
slowly  along  whilst  he  himself  pushed  his  sailor  hat  to  the 
extreme  back  of  his  head  and  yawned,  opening  his  rosy 
mouth  as  wide  as  it  would  go. 

"  Men  don't  yawn  in  their  saddles,  Jack,"  said  a  voice, 
which  was  music  in  his  ears. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  cried,  with  delight.  He  was  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Park,  no  one  was  near,  and  Brancepeth  was 
walking  where  he  had  no  business  to  be,  as  he  was  on  foot. 
He  came  up  to  the  child  and  greeted  him,  then  turned  to 
the  groom  : 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  the  Duke  a  minute  or  two.  You 
will  wait  here,"  he  said,  as  he  slipped  a  gold  piece  into 
the  man's  hand.  "  Jump  off,  Jack,  and  come  with  me." 

Jack  needed  no  second  bidding. 

The  groom,  with  the  sovereign  in  his  whip  hand,  made 
no  opposition,  and  Harry  walked  away  with  the  boy  across 
the  grass,  talking  to  him  as  they  went  of  horsemanship 
and  all  its  etiquette,  while  Jack's  face,  gay  and  rosy  in  its 
happiness,  was  turned  upward  with  adoring  eyes. 


330  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  I  thought  I  shouldn't  see  you  again,  Harry,'1  he  said, 
as  he  trotted  along  by  his  friend's  side.  u  We're  all  go- 
ing into  the  country  to-morrow." 

"  With  your  mother?  "  asked  Brancepeth* 

"  No ;  mammy's  at  Ems.  Boo's  so  cross  'cos  she's  got 
to  stay  with  us.  She  won't  play  at  anything." 

"  When  did  your  mother  go  ?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday." 

Brancepeth  sighed. 

"  And  she  didn't  leave  'ny  money,  and  she  didn't  leave 
'ny  orders  for  us,  and  the  servants  went  away,  and  there 
was  nothin'  to  eat,  and  the  scullery-maid  she  came  up- 
stairs, and  said  :  4  You  duckies,  I'll  buy  you  chops  if  I  go 
without  a  new  hat,'  and  nurse  said  she  was  an  imperent 
jade,  and  we  didn't  get  'ny  chops,  and  somebody  sent  to 
uncle  Ronnie,  and  he  came  and  gived  money,  and  I  told 
him  of  the  scullery-maid,  and  he  gived  her  half  a  sover- 
eign, and  said,  '  You're  a  good  girl,'  and  that  I  heard,  and 
wre  and  the  dogs  and  horses  go  down  this  afternoon." 

Jack  drew  a  long  breath  after  his  eloquence,  and  added, 
"  Harriet  is  gone  down  into  Essex  to  see  her  mother, 
who's  dyin',  or  she'd  have  bought  the  chops." 

There  were  very  few  persons  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Park,  and  they  went  on  across  the  grass  until  they  had 
got  out  of  sight  of  the  groom,  and  came  up  to  an  elrn  tree 
with  a  circular  bench  round  its  roots. 

"  Let's  sit  down  a  moment,  Jack,"  said  Harry.  "  It  will 
be  a  long  time  perhaps  before  I  see  you  again." 

"  Why  ? "  said  Jack,  in  alarm.  "  Are  you  going  to 
Ems?" 

"  No,  dear — I  am  not  going  to  Ems,"  said  Brancepeth 
Badly,  looking  down  at  the  boy's  face,  with  the  golden 
nimbus  of  its  ruffled  hair  and  the  black  circle  of  the  sailor 
hat  framing  the  hair  as  in  an  ebon  frame.  There  was  no 
one  near. 

The  great  elm  trunk  was  behind  them  like  a  wall,  and 
its  branches  above  them  like  a  roof. 

How  far  away  they  seemed,  those  pleasant  summers 
when,  as  the  London  season  ended,  he  and  she  had 
planned  their  meetings  at  this  bath  or  at  the  other,  and 
Cocky,  pliant,  philosophic  Cocky,  had  said  always  oppor- 


THE'  MASSARENES.  331 

tunely:  "You'll  coine  too,  won't  you,  Harry?  Filthy 
feeding  and  beastly  waters,  but  they  set  one  on  one's  legs 
again  somehow  or  other." 

The  distant  sound  of  the  traffic  in  the  road  be}rond  the 
railing  was  like  the  muttering  of  an  angry  but  distant 
sea.  A  white  butterfly  floated  above  the  heat-scorched 
turf.  Jack's  two  little  sunburnt  hands  were  clasped  on 
one  of  his  own  ;  he  looked  longingly  and  wistfully  down 
on  the  child's  face  and  form  as  we  look  on  what  we  cher- 
ish and  may  never  see  again. 

"Jack,"  said  Brancepeth  suddenly,  "if  you  were  never 
to  see  me  any  more  after  to-day  would  you  remember 
me  ?  " 

Jack's  face  had  on  it  the  distressed  perplexed  wonder 
with  which  children  feel  their  hearts  stirred  by  appeals 
which  they  very  dimly  understand ;  his  eyes  were  suffused, 
his  forehead  frowned.  "  Of  course  I  should,"  he  said 
almost  crossly. 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Brancepeth  very  wistfully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack  very  solemnly ;  then  he  burst  out 
crying.  "  What  do  you  say  such  things  for  ?  "  he  said 
between  his  sobs.  "  Where's  you  going  ?  " 

"You  dear  little  beggar,"  said  Harry,  much  moved 
himself,  as  he  put  his  arm  round  the  child's  shoulders  and 
drew  him  closer.  "  I  am  not  sure  I'm  going  anywhere, 
but  I  may  go  a  long  way,  and  I  mayn't  come  back. 
Don't  cry.  Listen.  If  you  grow  up  without  seeing  me 
try  and  be  a  good  man.  Not  such  a  beast  as  men  are 
nowadays.  Not  such  a  fool  as  I  am  ;  a  mere  horse-riding, 
card-playing,  dawdling,  gaping,  well-groomed  tomfool. 
Keep  out  of  the  accursed  London  life.  Don't  mind  what 
women  say.  Tell  the  truth.  Keep  straight.  Live  on 
your  land,  if  any  land's  left  when  you're  of  age.  There 
are  a  lot  of  things  I  want  to  say  to  you,  but  I  don't  know 
how  to  say  'em,  and  you're  too  little,  you  wouldn't  un- 
derstand. But  don't  do  as  I've  done,  that's  all;  and 
make  yourself  as  like  your  uncle  Ronnie  as  you  can." 


332  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

KATHERINE  MASSARENE  noticed  that  her  father  paired 
early  in  the  season  and  was  ordered  by  his  physician  to 
take  the  waters  of  Ems.  But  she  made  no  remark  on  the 
fact,  and  her  mother  said,  quite  unsuspiciously,  to  her 
husband  on  his  departure,  "  If  you  see  the  Duchess  there, 
William,  give  her  my  love.  She  was  looking  worried  and 
worn  when  she  left."  She  was  always  fascinated  by  that 
lovely  apparition  which  had  seemed  to  her  so  splendid  an 
incarnation  of  aristocracy  and  grace,  delicious  insolence 
and  incomparable  sorcery. 

"  Them  German  waters  are  wonderful  curers,"  she  said 
to  her  daughter.  "  They're  good  for  the  Duchess's  nerves, 
and  your  father's  rheumatics." 

Katherine  said  nothing.  Was  her  mother  as  simple  as 
she  seemed  ?  she  wondered.  Herself,  in  her  own  despite, 
she  felt  a  curious  reluctant  pity  for  Hurstmanceaux's 
sister ;  such  pity  as  she  might  have  felt  if  she  had  seen  a 
lithe  young  jaguar  crushed  by  the  hirsute  strength  of  a 
baboon.  The  jaguar  is  itself  cruel,  stealthy,  pitiless,  but 
still-— the  duel  is  unequal,  and  is  decided  by  sheer  brutal 
savage  force. 

"  Somehow  or  other,"  she  thought,  "  my  father  has 
frightened  her  and  cowed  her ;  she  looks  as  racing  mares 
do  when  they  come  in  off  the  trotting  piste,  with  their 
strained  eyes  and  their  nervous  trembling." 

She  felt  a  vague  desire  to  warn  the  victim  of  her 
father's  character,  of  his  pitiless  cruelty,  of  his  unutter- 
able brutality ;  but  she  knew  that  it  would  be  unfilial  to 
do  so,  and  would  be  probably  an  act  useless,  misunder- 
stood, and  attributed  to  some  selfish  motive.  She  knew 
the  world  well  enough  to  be  aware  that,  whatever  we 
may  do  to  serve  another,  we  are  always  suspected  of  serv- 
ing our  own  interests. 

To  her  it  was  evident  that  the  saucy  and  thievish 
rodent  had  run  once  too  often  and  once  too  near  the 


THE  MASSARENES.  333 

claws  and  teeth  of  the  tom-cat,  who  had  let  her  gambol 
before  him  only  to  seize  her  and  crunch  her  at  leisure. 
She  came  very  close  toward  the  truth  in  her  observations 
and  deductions,  but  she  shut  her  suspicions  up  in  her  own 
breast,  and  said  nothing  to  anyone,  being  used  to  live 
without  confidantes  and  to  put  a  padlock  on  her  lips. 

u  Who  would  ever  have  thought  Sourisette  would  be 
so  depressed  by  her  little  beast  of  a  husband's  death?" 
said  the  friends  who  saw  her  at  Ems  that  summer,  one  to 
another.  They  found  her  extremely  altered ;  she  was 
nervous,  pale,  had  lost  her  spirits,  and  shut  herself  up  a 
great  deal,  alleging  her  mourning. 

"  Mouse  as  la  veuve  inconsolable  is  too  droll,"  said  her 
world ;  but  when  it  became  known  that  the  guardians  and 
executors  had  taken  away  the  Otterbourne  jewels,  includ- 
ing the  roc's  egg,  and  locked  them  up,  never  to  be  un- 
locked until  Jack  should  attain  his  majority,  her  female 
friends  argued  that  it  was  no  wonder  she  felt  such  an  in- 
sult. 

"  It  is  not  an  insult.  It  is  the  law.  The  trustees  are 
obliged  to  do  it ;  the  little  Duke's  a  minor,"  explained 
their  male  relatives.  But  to  the  female  mind  this  kind  of 
explanation  always  appears  as  trivial  as  it  is  impertinent. 
The  general  impression  was  given  in  society  that  Hurst- 
manceaux  was  very  harsh  to  his  sister,  and  that  his  un- 
kindness  was  the  cause  of  her  loss  of  spirits  and  change 
of  habits ;  moreover,  it  was  said  that  it  was  he  who  had 
insisted  on  her  rupture  with  Brancepeth. 

Altogether  she  was  pitied  and  admired,  for  her  conduct 
had  been  quite  admirable  ever  since  the  day  that  her 
wreath  of  forget-me-nots  had  been  placed  on  poor  Cocky's 
grave,  almost  side  by  side  with  Lily  Larking's  harp  of 
calla  lilies. 

No  one  noticed  that  when  she  went  on  from  Ems  to 
Homburg,  William  Massarene  went  there  also  a  few  days 
later,  whilst  his  wife  and  daughter  remained  at  Vale 
Royal ;  no  one  except  the  courtly  diplomatist  of  the  silk 
dressing-gown,  who  was  at  Homburg  too,  and  who  ob- 
served that  she  did  not  bully  "  Billy  "  as  she  had  done  in 
the  days  of  the  Bird  rooms,  and  that  when  "  Billy  "  ap- 
proached her  there  came  into  her  eyes  a  flash  of  hate,  a 


334  THE  MASSAHENES. 

gleam  of  fear  and  loathing.  Also  that  whatever  he  pro* 
posed  in  the  way  of  walking,  driving,  or  dining,  she  ac- 
quiesced in  with  a  certain  sullenness  but  with  unusual 
docility. 

If  ever  in  his  sturdy  life  William  Massarene  had  been 
shy,  he  was  so  when  the  gaze  of  this  accomplished  person 
met  his  own.  But  whatever  the  minister  observed,  and 
any  conclusions  he  might  draw  from  his  observations,  he 
kept  to  himself,  having  in  his  career  learned  that  there  is 
no  proverb  truer  than  that  of  farbre  et  Vecorce.  He  was 
bland  and  charming  both  to  Fours  et  Vagrieau,  as  he  called 
them.  Pauvre  agneau !  She  had  gambolled  too  care- 
lessly and  skipped  too  nearly  the  hairy  arms  of  the  pon- 
derous bear  !  The  diplomatist  felt  thankful  that  he  could 
look  calmly  as  a  spectator  at  the  struggle.  He  was 
prudent  by  nature  and  by  habit,  and  beyond  all  women 
who  were  ever  created  his  own  personal  reputation  and 
his  own  personal  ambitions  were  dear  to  him. 

Equally  circumspect,  Massarene,  as  he  took  great  care 
not  to  compromise  himself,  did  not  compromise  her,  ex- 
cept in  the  inductions  of  such  very  fine  and  accomplished 
observers  as  this  diplomatist,  of  whom  there  are  few  left 
in  the  hurry  and  hurly-burly  of  modern  society.  If  the 
whole  of  his  constituency  had  been  watching  him,  he 
could  not  have  been  more  careful.  A  man  has  not  been 
President  of  the  Band  of  Purity  and  the  White  Riband 
Association  in  an  American  township  without  learning 
how  to  keep  his  neighbors'  noses  out  of  his  own  whiskey 
and  candy  stores. 

But  he  was  an  ever  present  horror  in  her  life.  He 
could  subdue  her  with  a  glance  of  his  colorless,  dull  eyes. 
She  no  longer  dragged  him  behind  in  the  dust  of  her 
chariot ;  she  was  dragged  in  the  dust  behind  his.  She 
was  tortured  by  the  ever  harrowing  dread  that  others 
would  notice  the  change.  She  had  even  lost  the  spirits 
and  the  nerve  to  invent  fictions  to  account  for  such  a 
change  to  her  friends.  She  let  things  drift  in  apathy  and 
disgust  and  fear. 

From  Homburg  he  let  her  go  on  to  Carlsbad,  where  he 
did  not  show  himself,  and  thence  on  a  visit  to  a  sister  of 
hers  who  had  married  a  Magyar  magnate,  where  she  was 


THE  MASSAREKES.  335 

for  a  while  in  peace,  since  there  certainly  her  tyrant  could 
not  go. 

Her  children  were  meantime  still  at  Whiteleaf,  a  ducal 
property,  of  which  Alberic  Orme  held  the  living,  where 
they  and  the  Blenheims  had  a  healthier,  if  less  brilliant, 
life  than  had  been  their  portion  when  with  her.  She 
had  no  anxiety  about  them.  She  knew  that  their 
uncle  Ronnie  would  see  to  all  that  was  necessary  for 
them.  She  hated  his  conscientiousness  bitterly,  but  she 
trusted  to  it  as  to  a  staff  which  would  never  break. 

The  vast  domain  of  Staghurst  had  already  been  let  to 
an  Indian  maharajah.  Otterbourne  House  had  been 
leased  to  the  representative  of  a  great  Power.  All  other 
houses  and  estates  were  similarly  disposed  of,  and  the 
strictest  measures  were  being  taken  to  make  the  little 
Duke's  minority  fruitful. 

The  dreadful  debaucheries  of  Cocky  had  impoverished 
his  father  woefully,  and  the  entail  had  been  eaten  into  as 
the  eastern  coast  of  England  is  being  gnawed  away  by 
the  sea.  But  the  long  minority  would  do  much  to  restore 
the  fallen  fortunes  of  the  great  dukedom,  and  a  strict 
economy  was  inaugurated. 

Her  own  jointure  was  of  course  paid  regularly  to  her ; 
but  it  seemed  to  her  brother  that  it  must  be  utterly  in- 
sufficient to  afford  her  means  to  live  as  she  chose  to  live. 
A  great  disquietude  and  alarm  always  weighed  on  him 
about  her,  but  she  had  chosen  to  quarrel  with  him.  He 
could  not  sue  for  reconciliation  when  he  was  in  the  right. 

Hurstmanceaux  was  as  tender-hearted  as  he  was  proud, 
and  if  she  had  made  any  sign  of  contrition  or  affection  he 
would  have  forgiven  all  her  insolence  and  have  gone  to 
her  at  once.  But  she  had  shut  the  door  in  his  face  ;  she 
had  insulted  him  by  the  lips  of  her  little  daughter.  He 
could  not  make  any  advances  to  her.  For  her  own  part 
she  was  relieved  not  to  see  him.  Something  might  have 
transpired  to  excite  his  suspicions ;  he  might  have  noticed 
the  altered  tone  of  William  Massarene,  or  he  might  have 
interrogated  her  as  to  her  ways  and  means,  and  found  her 
replies  unsatisfactory.  He  was  much  better  away,  and 
she  made  no  sign  to  him.  Her  movements  he  heard  of 
from  his  other  sisters,  and  from  the  columns  of  the  Morn- 


336  THE  MASSARENES. 

ing  Post.  In  the  late  autumn  he  saw  that  she  was  stay- 
ing at  Vale  Royal ;  the  Christmas  recess  she  passed  with 
Carrie  Wisbeach ;  the  new  year  saw  her  in  a  suite  of 
rooms  at  the  Residential  Hotel  facing  Hyde  Park. 

"  How  does  she  get  the  ready  money  ?  "  he  said  to 
Lady  Wisbeach,  who  had  come  from  her  journey  round  the 
globe  as  though  she  had  only  been  down  to  Greenwich. 

"  Oh,  a  woman  alone,  you  know,  with  only  a  maid," 
said  that  loyal  lady  carelesslj7,  "  a  woman  alone  needn't 
spend  more  than  a  sparrow.  It  isn't  as  if  she  had  the 
children.  And  then  in  mourning,  and  hardly  going  out 
except  to  quiet  little  things " 

Hurstmanceaux  did  not  find  the  explanation  very  satis- 
factory. 

"  Do  you  think  she  regrets  that  man  ?  "  he  said,  after 
a  pause. 

"Whatman?" 

"  Lord  Brancepeth." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Carrie  Wisbeach.  "  My  dear  Ronnie, 
where  do  you  live  ?  Who  regrets  things  when  they  have 
been  on  all  that  while  ?  " 

He  was  silent ;  he  felt  that  his  sisters  were  far  beyond 
him  in  the  knowledge  of  life. 

"  You  might  as  well  talk  of  regretting  a  worn-out 
shoe,"  said  Lady  Wisbeach,  with  some  impatience. 

"  Surely  you  admit  she  should  have  married  him  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  cried  his  sister  with  amazement.  "  I  implored 
her  not  to  marry  him.  She  would  have  been  mad  if  she 
had  married  him.  She  would  not  marry  him  when — 
when  she  was  wild  about  him.  She  married  Cocky.  She 
did  quite  right.  The  Inversays  are  utterly  ruined.  The 
old  people  have  nothing.  The  very  little  he  ever  had 
came  from  his  grandmother,  old  Lady  Luce,  and  that 
little  was — was — well,  was  got  rid  of  in  a  year  or  two. 
Besides,  nothing  is  so  stupid — such  a  want  of  sense  and 
s  avoir  fa  ire — as  to  marry  a  person  who  has  been  talked 
about  in  connection  with  you.  It  is  foolish.  It  confirms 
things.  It  makes  people  laugh.  Of  course  if  you  get  a 
very  great  position  by  it,  it's  a  different  thing.  But  even 
in  that  case  I  should  always  say  to  a  woman — at  least  to 
a  young  woman— don't !  " 


THE  MASSARENES.  337 

"  Why  especially  to  a  young  woman  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Ronnie,  you  are  really  too  stupid  for  any- 
thing !  If  a  woman  isn't  young  she  isn't  likely  to  have 
many  offers  of  marriage,  is  she  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  replied  Hurstmanceaux,  and  felt  once  more 
that  beside  the  worldly  wisdom  of  his  sisters  he  was  in- 
deed a  novice. 

"  You  live  in  the  country  till  you  forget  everything," 
said  Lady  Wisbeach. 

During  the  visits  of  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  to 
Vale  Royal  her  hostess  saw  a  great  change  in  her.  "That 

Eretty  creature  isn't  what  she  was,  William,"  she  said  to 
er  husband.  "  She  don't  cheek  you  as  she  used  to  do, 
and  she  seems  quite  down  in  the  dumps.  Surely  it  can't 
be  that  she's  fretting  on  account  of  the  death  of  that  little 
drunkard  ? " 

William  Massarene  did  not  look  at  his  wife  as  he  an- 
swered. "  'Tis  want  of  dollars  frets  her,  my  good  woman. 
That's  a  disease  as  ages  these  young  uns  fast.  Thorough- 
bred mares  want  gilded  oats." 

"  Deary  me  !  What's  the  use  of  being  a  duchess  if  you 
don't  get  gilded  oats  ?  "  said  his  wife.  She  was  troubled 
by  the  idea  of  anyone  so  exalted  being  brought  so  low 
as  to  want  money.  Being  tender-hearted  she  redoubled 
her  attentions  to  her  guest,  but  being  tactless  she  mingled 
with  them  a  familiarity  for  which  their  object  would  will- 
ingly have  murdered  her,  and  which  she  resented  all  the 
more  bitterly  because  she  was  forced  to  conceal  her  re- 
sentment. 

He  got  far  beyond  all  social  need  of  her  now.  His  po- 
sition was  secure  in  the  county,  in  the  country,  in  the 
world.  Men  knew  what  he  was  worth  both  in  millions 
and  in  mind,  and  they  feared  him.  He  did  not  scruple  to 
treat  them  like  dirt,  as  he  expressed  it,  and  it  was  they 
who  wanted  him  now,  they  who  had  to  sue  for  his  good 
offices  and  bear  his  snubs. 

For  some  few  people  like  Hurstmanceaux  he  was  still  only 
a  cad  sitting  on  a  pile  of  money-bags ;  but  these  were  so 
very  few  that  they  did  not  count,  and  he  could  very  well 
do  without  them. 

All  the  pick  of  the  Tory  party  came  to  Vale  Royal,  shot 


338  THE  NASSAEENES. 

his  pheasants  and  partridges,  drank  his  rare  wines,  asked 
his  opinion,  and  shook  his  hand.  If  out  of  his  hearing 
they  still  called  him  a  blackguard  American,  they  were 
now  extremely  civil  to  his  face,  and  when  he  wanted  them 
he  had  only  to  whistle.  It  pleased  his  love  of  dominion 
and  his  sense  of  successful  effort.  He  felt  that  all  these 
noble  people,  pretty  people,  fastidious  people,  all  these 
political  chiefs  and  swell  notabilities  and  leaders  of  par- 
liament and  of  fashion,  were  as  so  many  comedians,  all 
playing  for  him.  He  hated  them  for  a  great  many  rea- 
sons :  for  their  polished  accents,  for  their  way  of  bowing, 
for  the  ease  with  which  they  wore  their  clothes,  for  the 
trick  they  had  of  looking  well-bred  even  in  shabby  gowns 
or  old  shooting-coats.  But  he  despised  them  ;  he  could 
afford  to  despise  them,  and  they  could  not  afford  to  de- 
spise him. 

When  he  thought  of  this  he  passed  his  tongue  over  his 
lips  with  a  relishing  gesture,  like  a  dog  who  has  been  eat- 
ing a  beefsteak. 

With  the  world,  as  with  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne, 
he  had  ceased  to  be  suppliant — he  had  become  master  ; 
and  he  had  always  been  a  hard  master,  he  had  alwaj^s 
thought  that  the  best  argument  was  a  long  strip  of  cow- 
hide. 

"Oh,  you  brute — 3^ou  unutterable  brute!  If  a  look 
could  kill  you,  you  would  fall  dead  where  you  stand !  " 
thought  Mouse  one  day  as  she  looked  from  one  of  the 
windows  of  the  Bird  room,  and  saw  his  short  broad  figure, 
with  the  squat  legs  cased  in  the  gaiters  of  a  country  gen- 
tleman and  the  country  gentleman's  round  felt  hat  on  his 
stubbly  iron-grey  hair,  as  he  went  over  the  turf  with  his 
back  to  her,  having  on  his  left  the  lord-lieutenant  of  the 
county,  and  on  his  right  the  Tory  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, each  of  them  bending  their  tall  forms  affably  and 
listening  to  him  with  deference. 

But  looks  cannot  kill;  and  he  continued  to  walk  on 
across  the  sunlight  and  shadow  over  the  grass,  and  she 
continued  to  watch  him  from  the  upper  windows,  con- 
vulsed with  a  deadly  loathing  impotent  rage  against  him, 
such  as  Marie  Antoinette  must  have  felt  for  the  gaoler  of 
the  Conciergerie. 


THE  -MA88ARENE8.  339 

There  were  men  who  loved  her  to  insanity ;  even  in  the 
weary,  shallow,  indifferent,  modern  world  there  are  still 
women  who  inspire  insane  if  short-lived  passions,  and  she 
was  of  those  women  ;  but  she  could  not  appeal  to  any  one 
of  these  men  since  appeal  would  entail  confession ;  and 
confession  to  one  would  mean  exposure  to  all,  for  she 
knew  that  her  tyrant  would  be  merciless  if  she  freed  her- 
self from  him,  or  he  would  not  keep  her  signatures  as  he 
did  keep  them.  Skilled  in  male  human  nature,  and  the 
management  of  it,  though  she  was,  she  had  no  experience 
to  guide  her  in  dealing  with  Massarene,  because  all  the 
men  amongst  whom  she  had  lived  had  been  gentlemen ; 
and  the  way  of  treating  women  of  the  gentlemen  and  the 
cad  is  as  different  as  their  way  of  shooting.  A  man  capa- 
ble of  acting  as  Massarene  did  could  not  have  been  met 
with  in  her  world. 

"  It  is  all  our  own  fault,"  she  thought.  "  Why  do  we 
let  these  boors  and  brutes  in  at  our  gates  because  they 
have  got  their  sacks  of  bullion  on  their  backs  ?  "  And  as 
she  always  blamed  somebody  for  the  issue  of  her  own  er- 
rors, she  thought  with  detestation  of  Cocky  coming  up  to 
her  under  the  trees  at  Homburg,  and  telling  her  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  Massarenes. 

Happily  for  her  William  Massarene  was  too  cautious, 
too  busy,  and  too  ambitious  a  man  to  lose  much  of  his 
time  in  torturing  her.  He  delighted  in  her  hatred,  her 
helplessness,  her  servitude,  but  she  was  only  a  toy  to  him ; 
his  gigantic  schemes  of  self-advancement,  and  his  many 
financial  enterprises,  engrossed  him  much  more,  and  he 
would  not  have  risked  his  social  position  by  a  scandal  for 
all  the  beautiful  women  in  creation.  He  supplied  her 
with  the  money  she  wanted,  but  he  made  her  beg,  and  he 
made  her  sign,  for  every  penny  of  it.  It  was  fine  sport! 

Her  own  people  attributed  the  change  in  her  to  her 
rupture  with  Brancepeth  ;  and,  in  himself,  Hurstmanceaux 
did  so  also.  But  it  was  a  subject  on  which  he  could 
know  nothing  since  the  scene  she  had  with  him  concern- 
ing her  late  friend,  and  he  could  only  suppose  that  like 
many  another  woman  she  sorrowed  for  the  loss  of  what 
she  had  refused  to  keep.  He  knew  that  she  stayed  a  good 
deal  with  the  folks  at  Tale  Royal,  but  his  penetration  did 


340  THE  MASSARENES. 

not  go  farther  than  to  conclude  that  she  did  so  because  it 
saved  her  expense.  He  saw  nothing  of  her  personally  in 
the  autumn  and  winter  following  Cocky's  death ;  his  una- 
voidable communications  with  her  on  business  were  made 
by  letter.  Sometimes  he  wondered  how  she  and  the  lady 
with  whom  he  had  walked  to  Greater  Thorpe  got  on  to- 
gether; he  did  not  think  that  they  could  suit  each  other; 
but  he  saw  little  of  the  one  and  nothing  at  all  of  the 
other. 

Of  William  Massarene  he  of  course  saw  nothing  either; 
so  that  the  curt  and  insolent  tone  which  Massarene  at 
times  now  allowed  himself  to  use  to  one  whose  humble 
slave  he  had  once  been  was  unknown  to  him  ;  if  he  had 
heard  it  and  resented  it,  the  "  bull-dozing  boss  "  would 
have  cast  the  truth  in  his  teeth,  and,  grinning,  have 
awaited  his  reception  of  it,  for  courage  had  never  been 
lacking  to  the  man  who  for  thirty  years  had  held  his  own 
against  the  hatred  of  the  whole  Central  States. 

This  terror  lest  he  should  thus  tell  the  truth  to  her 
brother  haunted  her  night  and  day.  She  did  not  think 
there  was  much  fear  because  she  knew  that  he  held  his 
social  position  as  dear  as  life  itself,  and  he  would  be  well 
aware  that  Hurstmanceaux  would  destroy  it  at  a  blow. 
Still  she  could  not  be  sure,  for  she  knew  that  temper  some- 
times hurries  the  wisest  and  most  ambitious  man  into  irre- 
vocable indiscretion. 

She  had  herself  lost  absolutely  all  power  over  the  man 
who  had  been  so  blindly  her  slave.  Their  positions  had 
wholly  changed.  It  was  she  who  shrank  from  his  glance; 
it  was  he  who  ordered  and  was  obeyed.  She,  who  had  no 
acquaintance  with  pain,  suffered  as  never  before  would 
she  have  believed  it  possible  to  suffer.  Humiliation,  ter- 
ror, abhorrence,  self-contempt,  were  all  united  to  an  agony 
of  apprehension  with  regard  to  the  future.  She  would 
easily  have  made  a  second  marriage,  but  her  tyrant  for- 
bade her  any  such  issue  from  her  difficulties. 

She  had  never  before  supposed  that  it  would  ever  be 
possible  for  her  to  be  miserable  in  London,  but  she  was  so 
now;  the  dull  cold  bleak  weather  aiding  her  depression, 
and  the  mourning  which  she  had  still  to  wear  seeming  to 
her  indeed  the  very  livery  of  gloom. 


THE  MASSARENES.  341 

A  whole  hothouse  of  flowers  emptied  into  her  room 
could  not  make  opaque  yellow  fog  supportable,  and  the 
sight  of  William  Massarene  driving  past  her  windows  or 
coming  up  the  staircase  anything  less  than  torture. 

How  she  envied  those  women  of  ruder  ages  who  could 
hire  bravoes  for  a  quick  cold  steel  to  rid  them  of  what 
they  loathed.  She  hated  him  so  intensely  that  there  were 
even  times  when  she  looked  wistfully  in  at  the  gunsmiths' 
shops  in  Piccadilly. 

But  she  lived  in  a  world  in  which  all  strong  passions 
seemed  farcical,  and  the  ridicule  of  the  thing  restrained 
her  from  buying  a  revolver.  A  tragedy  with  Billy  as  the 
slain  !  She  laughed  a  hollow  little  laugh  of  misery  and 
scorn  as  she  threw  herself  back  in  her  brougham  and 
ceased  to  look  at  the  little  ivoiy  mounted  weapons  so 
temptingly  displayed  by  the  gunsmiths. 

She  had  insight  enough  to  perceive  that  his  adoration  of 
her  was  a  thing  dead  and  gone  for  ever  ;  she  saw  that  the 
only  dregs  of  it  which  remained  with  him  were  love  of 
hurting  her,  of  mortifying  her,  of  ordering  her  about  as 
though  she  were  a  factory  wench  in  one  of  his  cotton- 
mills  in  North  Dakota.  Fortunately  for  her  his  prudence 
saved  her  from  any  display  of  this  tyranny  in  public  ;  but 
in  private  he  treated  her  as  a  tanner  of  the  He  de  France 
might  have  treated  a  young  duchess  of  the  Faubourg 
when  it  only  needed  a  sign  to  the  mob  for  the  axe  to  fall 
and  the  pikes  to  be  twisted  in  the  perfumed  hair.  She 
had  no  will  of  her  own  ;  she  dared  not  dispose  of  her  time 
for  a  week;  she  had  to  know  what  he  permitted  and  what 
he  forbade. 

"  She's  a  morsel  for  a  king,"  he  would  say  to  himself, 
passing  his  tongue  over  his  lips.  Still  he  had  become 
very  indifferent  to  her,  except  that  his  power  of  humiliat- 
ing her  was  always  agreeable  and  stimulating  to  him. 

u  You've  found  out  as  Billy  ain't  a  fool,  haven't  you, 
my  beauty,"  he  said  a  hundred  times  to  her.  "  Billy's 
been  one  too  many  for  you,  eh  ?  " 

And  at  such  moments  if  a  revolver  had  been  near  her' 
she  would  have  shot  him  dead. 

The  harassing  torment  of  her  compulsory  submission  to 
him  made  her  look  worn,  anxious,  thin.  "Surely  I  am 


342  THE  MASSAEENES. 

not  losing  rny  beauty,"  she  thought  with  horror,  as  she 
looked  at  herself  in  the  mirrors,  and  each  day  she  was  ob- 
liged to  have  a  little  more  recourse  to  the  aids  of  art. 

She  knew  well  enough  that  however  brilliant  may  be 
artificial  loveliness,  it  is  never  quite  the  same  as  the 
radiance  of  that  natural  beauty  which  can  affront  the 
drenching  rain  of  a  hunting-field  or  the  scorching  sun  on 
a  yacht-deck,  or,  most  difficult  to  bear  of  all,  the  clear 
light  of  early  day  after  a  ball. 

Oh,  how  she  hated  everyone  !  Cocky  in  his  grave,  and 
Beaumont  in  his  shop,  and  Ronald  who  had  brought  all 
this  misery  upon  her.  and  Brancepeth  who  had  taken  her 
at  her  word;  and — oh,  how  bitterly  and  with  what  deadly 
hatred  ! — this  coarse,  common,  hideous  creature  who  said 
to  her  in  his  brutal  derision  : 

"  Billy's  been  one  too  many  for  you,  eh,  my  dear  ?  " 

He  had  put  this  thoroughbred  trotter  into  the  harness 
of  his  homely  wagon,  and  it  never  ceased  to  please  him  to 
watch  her  jib,  and  start,  and  tremble,  and  pant,  as  he 
flogged  her  along  the  stony  road  of  subservience  to  his 
will  and  desires. 

The  more  intensely  she  dreaded  and  loathed  him  the 
more  entirely  did  he  enjoy  his  revenge.  It  had  cost  him 
a  great  deal  of  money,  but  he  did  not  grudge  the  money. 
The  sport  was  rare. 

"  Stow  that,  my  pretty,"  he  said  to  her  when  he  saw 
her  receiving  as  if  she  liked  it  the  attentions  of  some  man 
who  might  very  well  be  in  earnest  and  desire  to  persuade 
her  to  a  second  marriage.  "  Stow  that,  my  pretty.  You 
aren't  a-going  to  wed  with  nobody — Billy's  here." 

Her  disgust,  her  indignation,  her  helpless  revolt,  were 
all  infinitely  diverting  to  him  ;  he  let  her  free  herself  a 
moment,  only  to  pull  her  up  with  a  jerk  and  remind  her 
that  he  was  her  master.  She  felt  that  as  long  as  he  lived 
he  would  never  let  her  escape  him. 

"  Perhaps  I'll  marry  you  myself  if  the  old  woman  goes 
to  glory,"  he  said  with  a  grin.  "  Don't  you  count  on  it 
though,  my  dear ;  I  may  see  somebody  else  and  disappoint 
you ! " 

His  position  was  too  dear  to  him  for  any  jeopardy  of  it 
to  be  risked  for  any  other  consideration  on  earth.  It  was 


THE  MASSARENE8.  343 

to  his  own  fear  for  himself  that  she  owed  such  partial  re- 
lief from  him  as  she  obtained,  such  comparative  liberty  as 
his  jealous  vengeance  permitted ;  such  formal  politeness 
as  he  showed  her  in  society.  He  was  afraid  she  might 
make  a  confession  to  Hurstmanceaux  if  he  pressed  her 
too  hard,  and  this  feeling  alone  kept  his  tyrannies  within 
certain  bounds,  and  compelled  him  to  treat  her  with 
courtesy  before  the  world. 

But  the  low-bred  ruffianism  which  was  his  true  inner 
man  showed  itself  frequently  in  private. 

Once  he  wiped  his  dusty  boots  on  the  hem  of  her  gown. 

"  A  duchess's  frock  makes  a  nice  door-mat,"  he  said  with 
relish.  "Don't  you  squeal,  my  pretty,  or  damn  me  if  I 
don't  wipe  'em  with  your  hair  next." 

She  knew  that  he  would  do  as  he  said. 

He  kept  her  in  perpetual  slavery  also  for  him  in  the 
world;  he  made  her  serve  his  interests  with  all  her  rela- 
tives and  friends ;  he  sometimes  exacted  what  was  not 
only  difficult  but  almost  impossible,  and  she  had  to  get  it 
done  somehow  or  other.  His  ambitions  grew  with  what 
they  fed  on,  and  he  became  arrogant,  critical,  overbear- 
ing in  his  expectations. 

"  I  mean  to  die  a  lord  and  a  cabinet  minister,"  he  said, 
with  a  sense  that  death  could  only  be  his  obedient  valet 
like  the  Conservative  party. 

44  If  wishes  could  kill  you,  you  would  fall  dead  where 
you  stand,"  she  thought ;  but  she  dared  not  say  so,  and 
she  devoured  her  hatred  and  her  humiliation  in  silence. 

44  You  aren't  so  young  as  you  were,  my  beauty,"  he 
said  one  day  out  of  doors,  staring  ruthlessly  at  her. 
44  Billy  don't  agree  with  you,  eh  ?  Keep  worrying  the 
curb,  don't  you  ?  Pull  as  hard  as  you  will,  you  won't  get 
your  head.  You're  between  my  shafts,  and  you  must 
just  go  quiet  over  the  stones  at  my  pace,  my  lady  fair." 

The  stones  were  very  sharp,  and  this  road  was  ap- 
parently without  an  end.  She  grew  thin,  she  looked 
harassed  and  hectic,  she  contracted  a  nervous  way  of 
glancing  back  over  her  shoulder  to  see  if  he  were  within 
earshot,  even  when  she  knew  that  he  was  a  hundred  miles 
away. 

One  day  when  he  was  with  her  one  of  her  many  ad- 


344  THE  MASSARENES. 

mirers  sent  her  a  large  gilded  gondola-shaped  basket  filled 
with  Palestine  lilies  and  La  France  roses. 

"  Who  sent  these  ?  "  he  growled,  and  he  pulled  the  card 
off  it  and  read  the  name.  It  was  a  great  name.  "  What's 
this  mean,  eh?"  he  said  as  he  showed  her  the  card. 

"  It  means  nothing  at  all,"  she  said,  with  that  tremor  in 
her  which  was  partly  impotent  rage  and  chiefly  genuine 
fear  ;  and  added,  with  a  little  nervous  laugh,  "  We  have 
no  language  of  flowers  like  the  Orientals." 

"Eh?"  said  Massarene,  who  did  not  understand — 
"  mean  nothing,  do  they  ?  That's  one  of  your  damned 
lies.  Now  ye  hearken  to  me,  my  lady.  Him  as  sent  'em 
's  so  deep  in  my  debt  that  he'd  hev  to  turn  crossiir  sweeper 
if  I  held  up  my  little  finger.  Now  I  won't  hev  my  debtors 
come  gallivantin'  to  my  sweetheart.  Mind  that.  Make 
him  keep  his  distance  or  it'll  be  worse  for  him  and  for 
you.  You  know  Billy  by  this  time." 

Then  he  kicked  over  the  gilded  gondola  and  trampled 
the  beautiful  flowers  under  his  big  feet. 

Her  nerves  gave  way  under  the  sickening  nausea  of  the 
scene.  She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud, 
her  tortured  pride  of  race  and  of  womanhood  writhing  like 
some  delicate  animal  in  a  steel  trap. 

William  Massarene  stood  and  watched  her,  his  thumbs  in 
the  armholes  of  his  coat,  his  legs  wide  apart,  his  yellow 
teeth  showing  in  a  broad  grin.  It  was  rare  sport.  It  had 
cost  him  an  almighty  pile  of  dollars,  but  it  was  rare  sport. 
He  felt  that  after  his  long  career  of  hard  work  and  self- 
denial  he  had  earned  the  right  to  some  such  fun  and  feast 
as  this. 


THE  MASSARENES.  345 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

WITH  the  next  season  he  allowed  her  to  accept  the  loan 
of  her  sister  Carrie's  house  in  town ;  that  lady  having 
gone  on  a  little  trip  to  Japan.  She  hated  the  Wisbeach 
house,  which  was  dark,  ugly,  and  situated  in  the  dreary 
district  of  Portman  Square.  Carrie  Wisbeach,  who  was 
but  little  in  town,  and  was  a  sportswoman  renowned  in 
more  lands  than  her  own,  had  little  heed  of  all  the  artistic 
and  graceful  luxuries  with  which  her  younger  sister  had 
always  required  to  be  surrounded,  and  had  left  her  hus- 
band's old  London  house  very  much  as  his  grandparents 
had  made  it. 

Mouse  detested  it  unspeakably,  but  it  was  roomy  and  a 
good  way  off  Harrenden  House,  and  she  put  up  with  it, 
trusting  that  she  would  be  almost  always  out  of  it.  For 
her  tyrant  favored  rather  than  discourages  her  perpetual 
appearance  in  society ;  it  prevented  people  talking,  and 
in  society  alone  could  she  favor  his  interests  social  and 
political. 

She  was  still  altered  ;  she  had  still  that  harassed  appre- 
hensive glance  backward  over  her  shoulder ;  but  she  was 
familiarized  with  her  captivity,  and  had  learned  to  make 
bricks  without  straw  for  her  bondmaster  without  too 
plainly  betraying  to  others  the  marks  of  the  sand  and  the 
clay  in  which  she  was  forced  to  kneel. 

Ever  since  her  first  season  she  had  done  whatever  she 
had  pleased,  and  amused  herself  in  any  manner  she  desired. 
But  she  had  never  got  into  trouble,  never  been  compro- 
mised, never  felt  her  position  shake  beneath  her.  A 
woman,  young  and  popular,  who  has  great  connections 
behind  her,  can,  if  she  have  tact  and  skill,  easily  avoid 
being  injured  by  scandal.  If  she  knows  how  to  conciliate 
opinion  by  certain  concessions,  she  can  enjoy  herself  as 
thoroughly  as  any  young  cat  gambolling  about  a  dairy ; 
and  no  one  will  seriously  interfere  with  her.  Society  had 
certainly  "  talked  " ;  but  when  a  woman  has  a  brother  like 


346  THE  MASSARENES. 

Hurstmanceaux,  and  a  father-in-law  like  the  good  Duke 
of  Otterbourne,  and  many  other  male  relatives  high- 
spirited  and  innumerable,  people  do  not  talk  very  incau- 
tiously or  very  loudly. 

Now  through  "Billy,"  for  the  first  time,  she  saw  her 
position  jeopardized.  That  low-bred  creature,  whom  she 
had  made  fetch  and  carry,  and  wince  and  tremble  at  her 
whim  and  pleasure,  had  now  the  power  to  make  her,  if  he 
chose,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  that  miserable,  contempti- 
ble, and  despicable  creature,  zfemme  taree. 

Sometimes,  too,  a  more  tragic,  a  more  sickening,  fear 
assailed  her,  when  she  thought  of  the  possibility  of  her 
tyrant  telling  the  truth,  in  boastf illness  or  in  revenge,  to 
her  brother.  It  was  not  likely,  but  it  was  always  possi- 
ble ;  for  she  saw  that  in  William  Massarene,  at  times, 
temper — the  savage,  uncontrolled  temper  of  the  low-born 
man — got  the  better  of  good  sense,  of  caution,  and  even 
of  ambition.  She  could  never  be  sure  that  it  might  not 
do  so  some  day  in  her  case,  and  that  for  the  ruffianly 
relish  of  dragging  the  pride  of  the  head  of  the  House  of 
Courcy  in  the  dust,  he  might  not  throw  to  the  devil  all 
his  cherished  triumphs,  all  his  hardly -bought  distinctions. 

Happily  for  her  Hurstmanceaux  was  almost  always  in 
the  country,  or  on  the  sea,  and  the  sight  of  him  in  London 
streets  seldom  tempted  the  fiend  to  rise  in  her  gaoler. 

Meanwhile  the  London  season  came  on  and  ran  its 
course  with  its  usual  plethora  of  pleasure  and  politics,  its 
interludes  of  Easter  and  Whitsuntide  weeks,  and  its  com- 
ings and  goings  of  people,  who  could  not  live  without 
running  to  Rome,  flying  to  Biskra,  shipping  over  to  New 
York,  and  taking  a  breathless  scamper  to  Thibet. 

Katheiine  Massarene  came  up  to  town  in  the  spring, 
sorely  against  her  will,  and  she  went  through  the  routine 
which  was  so  wearisome  to  her,  and  rejected  many  offers 
of  the  hands  and  hearts  of  gentlemen  with  whom  she  had 
exchanged  half-a-dozen  sentences  at  a  dinner-party  or  rid- 
ing down  Rotten  Row. 

"Lord,  child,  what  do  you  want  that  you're  so  particu- 
lar?" said  her  mother,  who  did  not  approve  this  incessant 
and  ruthless  dismissal  of  suitors. 

"  I  want  nothing  and  no  one.     I  want  to  be  let  alone," 


THE  MASSARENE8.  347 

replied  her  daughter.  "  As  for  the  life  of  London,  I  abhor 
it,  I  am  asphyxiated  in  it." 

Suitors  who  might  fairly  have  expected  her  to  appre- 
ciate them  solicited  her  suffrage  in  vain ;  she  did  not  give 
them  a  thought,  she  abhorred  them — everyone.  She  only 
longed  to  get  away  from  it  all  and  have  finished  for  ever 
with  the  pomp,  the  pretention,  the  oppressive  effort  which 
seemed  to  her  parents  the  very  marrow  of  life. 

"  Mr.  Mallock  calls  this  the  best  society  of  Europe,"  she 
thought  again.  "  If  it  be  so,  why  does  it  all  come  to  us  to 
be  fed  ?  " 

Had  she  possessed  the  disposal  of  her  father's  fortune 
she  would  not  have  fed  it.  Being  obliged  to  stand  by 
and  see  it  fed,  in  such  apparent  acquiescence  as  silence 
confers,  she  lost  all  appetite  herself  for  the  banquet  of 
life. 

Such  slight  cutting  phrases  as  she  permitted  herself  to 
speak  were  repeated  with  embittered  and  exaggerated  em- 
phasis in  London  houses  until  London  society  grew  hor- 
ribly afraid  of  her.  But  it  concealed  its  fear  and  wreathed 
in  smiles  its  resentment,  being  sincerely  desirous  of  ob- 
taining the  hand  of  the  satirist  for  one  of  its  sons. 

More  than  once  the  Press  announced  her  betrothal  to 
some  great  personage,  but  on  the  following  morning  was 
always  forced  to  retract  the  statement  as  a  snail  draws  in 
its  horns.  To  her  mother  it  seemed  heathenish  and  un- 
natural that  a  young  woman  should  not  wish  to  be  "  set- 
tled " ;  she  thought  the  mischief  came  from  the  education 
Katherine  had  received,  reading  books  that  had  even  a 
different  alphabet. 

"  You  want  all  the  hideous  vulgarity  of  a  fashionable 
wedding,  my  dear  mother,"  said  Katherine.  "  If  ever  I 
should  marry  I  assure  you  I  shall  wear  a  white  cotton 
gown  and  go  alone  to  some  remote  village  church." 

"  My  dear,  how  can  you  say  such  things  ?  It  is  quite 
shocking  to  hear  you,"  said  the  mistress  of  Harrenden 
House,  infinitely  distressed. 

"  Pray  set  your  mind  at  ease,"  said  her  daughter.  "  I 
shall  never  marry,  for  the  best  of  all  reasons  that  no  man 
whom  I  could  respect  would  ever  marry  me." 

"Not  respect  ye!     How   can   you   say  such   things? 


348  THE  MASSAEENES. 

You're  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the 
whole  world,  and  hell  be  noble  as  well,  he  says,  afore  he 
goes  to  Kingdom  Come." 

The  younger  woman  lifted  her  head,  like  a  forest-doe 
who  hears  the  crack  of  a  carter's  whip. 

"To  belong  to  the  Peerage  is  not  necessarily  to  belong 
to  the  nobility;  and  you  may  belong  to  the  nobility  with- 
out being  included  in  the  Peerage.  Sir  Edward  Coke  laid 
down  that  law.  Surely,  my  dear  mother,  you  cannot  for 
a  moment  pretend  that  if  my  father  be  given  a  peerage  he 
will  become  noble  ?  " 

Katherine  Massarene  knew  that  she  might  as  well  have 
spoken  to  the  Clodion  on  the  staircase,  as  said  these  rea- 
sonable things  to  her  mother ;  but  now  and  then  she  could 
not  wholly  keep  back  the  expression  of  the  scorn  of  her 
father's  ambitions  which  moved  her — ambitions,  in  her 
eyes,  so  peurile  and  so  poor. 

"  Who  was  Edward  Coke  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Massarene  sul- 
lenly. 

"  The  greatest  lawyer  England  has  ever  seen.  The 
greatest  exponent  of  Common  Law." 

"  Well,  then,  I  think  he  might  have  known  better  than 
to  deny  as  his  sovereign  can  make  a  gentleman  of  anybody 
if  so  be  she  choose,"  said  her  mother  doggedly. 

"  You  might  as  well  say  that  the  sovereign  can  cure  the 
king's  evil ! " 

"  Well,  they  say  she  can  ?  " 

"Oh,  my  dear  mother  !  Can  you  live  in  the  world  and 
keep  such  superstitions?" 

"  You've  no  belief  in  you  !  " 

"I  at  least  believe  enough  in  true  nobility  to  hold  that 
it  is  a  gift  of  race  and  breeding  beyond  purchase,  and  un- 
creatable  by  any  formula." 

"  If  the  Queen  makes  your  father  a  lord,  a  lord  he  will 
be  with  the  best  of  them." 

"  She  can  make  him  a  lord ;  she  cannot  make  him  either 
noble  or  gentle.  His  nobility  will  be  a  lie,  as  his  armorial 
bearings  are  already." 

"  That's  a  cruel  thing  to  say,  Kathleen ! " 

"  It  is  the  truth." 

"Why  do  I  try  to  reason  with  her?"  she  thought. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  249 

"  One  might  as  well  try  to  persuade  the  stone  supporters 
on  the  gateway  ?  " 

But  Margaret  Massarene,  although  she  would  not  allow 
it,  did,  in  her  own  mind,  think  that  her  man  was  soaring 
too  high  in  his  aspirations.  To  look  up  where  he  meant 
to  rise  to,  made  her  feel  giddy  and  afraid. 

"  They'll  never  give  it  to  ye,  William,"  his  wife  ven- 
tured timidly  to  say  one  day,  by  "  it  "  meaning  his  peerage. 

He  smiled  grimly. 

"  Why  not?  'Cos  I  ain't  a  Radical  turncoat?  'Cause 
I  ain't  a  Birmingham  sweater  ?  'Cause  I  ain't  a  Hebrew 
broker?  They'll  give  it  me,  old  woman,  or  I'll  know 
the  reason  why.  You'll  be  'my  Lady,'  if  you  live." 

He  devoutly  hoped  she  would  not  live ;  but  if  she  did 
live,  she  should  be  Lady  Cottesdale. 

He  had  decided  on  his  title,  which  he  intended  to  take 
from  a  little  property  that  he  had  purchased  in  the  Mid- 
lands, and  he  had  already  ordered  a  dinner-service  of  gold 
plate,  with  a  coronet  on  all  its  pieces,  which  was  to  be  a 
work  of  art,  and  would  take  some  years  to  finish.  Before 
it  would  be  ready  for  him  he  would  be  ready  for  it,  with 
his  baron's  crown  to  put  on  everything,  from  the  great 
gates  to  the  foot-baths. 

Any  man  who  is  very  rich  can  become  an  English  peer 
if  he  has  kept  clear  of  scandals  and  dabbled  a  little  in 
public  life.  And  who  was  richer  than  he?  Nobody 
this  side  the  herring-pond.  The  Conservatives  were  in 
office.  The  Flying  Boats  of  the  fair,  to  which  he  had  once 
irreverently  compared  the  two  political  parties,  had  made 
their  see-sawing  journey,  and  the  one  was  temporarily  up 
and  the  other  temporarily  down.  The  owner  of  Vale 
Royal  was  beginning  to  make  them  feel  that  they  would 
lose  him  if  they  did  not  please  him,  and  that  they  could 
not  afford  to  lose  him.  He  had  a  forty-horse  power  of 
making  himself  dangerous  and  disagreeable. 

"A  very  dreadful  person,"  said  Lord  Greatrex  always, 
when  in  the  bosom  of  his  family;  but  he  knew  that  it  was 
precisely  this  kind  of  person  who  must  be  conciliated  and 
retained  by  a  Prime  Minister  on  the  eve  of  the  twentieth 
century.  A  chief  of  government  has  only  a  certain 
quantity  of  good  things  in  his  gift,  and  he  does  not  waste 


350  THE  MASSARENES. 

them  on  those  who,  being  neglected,  will  not  avenge 
themselves.  William  Massarene  worried  the  heads  of  his 
party  extremely ;  they  were  well  aware  that  if  he  did  not 
get  what  he  wanted  from  them,  he  would  rat  and  make 
terms  with  the  enemy.  Governments  are  accustomed  to 
John  Snob,  whom  nothing  will  pacify,  except  to  become 
Lord  Vere  de  Vere ;  but  John  Snob  is  never  beloved  by 
them. 

William  Massarene  did  riot  care  whether  they  loved 
him  or  hated  him.  The  time  had  long  passed  when  a 
"  How  do  ?  "  in  the  Lobby  from  one  of  them  could  thrill 
him  with  pleasure  and  pride  ;  or  a  careless  nod  in  the 
dusk  on  the  Terrace  send  him  to  dinner  with  a  joyously- 
beating  heart.  He  could  corner  the  gentlemen  of  the 
Carlton  as  easily  as  he  had  cornered  a  company  in  other 
days  in  Dakota.  You  could  not  buy  society  as  you 
bought  a  corporation  or  a  department  in  the  States  ;  the 
matter  required  more  dressing  up  and  glossing  over. 
Still,  the  principle  of  purchase  remained  the  same,  and 
Massarene  recuperated  himself  for  what  he  spent  so 
largely  in  Belgravia  by  his  commercial  successes  and 
financial  fame  in  the  City. 

In  the  freemasonry  of  business  he  had  been  at  once 
recognized  in  the  City  as  a  Grand  Master.  Many  a 
London  gold  broker,  railway  contractor,  and  bank  chair- 
man felt  himself  a  mere  child,  a  mere  neophyte,  when 
this  silent,  squat,  keen -eyed  man  from  the  Northwest 
came  down  into  the  precincts  of  Mincing  Lane  and 
Threadneedle  Street. 

In  the  City  he  knew  his  power,  and  made  it  felt.  He 
united  the  American  rapidity,  daring,  and  instinct  in  busi- 
ness with  the  Englishman's  coldness,  reserve,  and  pru- 
dence. The  union  was  irresistible.  He  had  quaked  and 
crouched  before  fine  ladies  ;  but  when  he  met  the  direc- 
tors of  the  Bank  of  England  he  felt  like  Napoleon  at  Til- 
sit. 

He  was  a  magnate  in  the  City,  whilst  he  was  still  a 
neophyte  in  the  great  world.  But  his  ambitions  were  of 
another  kind  than  those  which  the  City  gratifies.  They 
were  social  and  political.  He  meant  to  die  a  Cabinet 
Minister  and  a  Peer.  He  went  to  Walmer  one  Easter 


THE  hlASSARENES.  351 

and  looked  at  the  portraits  of  the  Wardens.  "Guess 
mine  '11  hang  there  one  day,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Everything  in  his  new  life  was  still,  in  reality,  most 
uncomfortable  to  him ;  the  very  clothes  he  had  to  wear 
were  tight  and  oppressive  ;  he  had  to  drink  hocks  and 
clarets,  when  he  longed  for  gin  and  beer ;  he  had  to  eat 
salmis  and  releves  when  he  hungered  for  bread  and  cheese 
and  salted  pork ;  he  longed  to  spit  on  his  own  carpets,  and 
dared  not;  he  was  in  awe  of  his  own  servants;  he  was 
awkward  and  ill  at  ease  in  his  own  houses ;  he  quailed 
before  the  contemptuous  eye  of  his  own  secretary ;  and 
he  could  not  read  the  bill  of  fare  of  his  own  dinners ;  and 
yet,  though  he  pined  to  be  once  more  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
with  a  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  a  glass  of  hot  grog  at 
his  elbow,  he  was  happy  in  his  misery,  for  he  "had 
arrived." 

Not  arrived  at  the  apex  as  yet ;  but  in  full  view  of  it, 
and  within  an  ace  of  planting  his  flag  on  the  summit. 
And  so  in  all  probability  he  would  have  done  in  the  open- 
ing years  of  the  new  century  but  for  one  of  those  small, 
very  small,  mistakes,  which  upset  the  chariot  of  successful 
life  as  the  loose  rivet,  the  weak  plank,  the  uncovered 
valve  destroys  the  stately  steamship,  the  colossal  scaffold- 
ing, the  rushing  and  thundering  steam-engine. 

One  day  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  the  American 
Consul-General  in  London  received  a  letter  from  his 
"great  country"  which,  although  ill-spelt,  ill-writ,  and 
signed  by  a  poor  workingman,  startled  his  secretary  so 
considerably  by  its  contents  that  he  brought  the  epistle 
direct  to  his  chief  for  instructions. 

This  letter  ran  thus : — 

''Onored  'Xcellence,  theer's  a*living  in  London  town  a 
man  as  is  callt  Willum  Massarene  ;  'e  was  known  in  this  ''ere 
township  as  Blasted  Blizzard.  B.  B.  made  a  big  pile  anj 
went  'ome,  and  they  says  as  'e's  a  swell  an'  kings  arf  lords 
mess  wi'  him.  That's  neither  'ere  nor  theer.  But  theer's  a 
pore  fellar  arsis  me  to  writ  this,  'cos  he  hev  hisself  no  larn- 
in',  an'  'e  hev  workt  many  a  year  on  Massarene 's  line — - 
Kerosene,  Issoura,  and  Chicago  Main  Trunlc — an'  he's  a 
platelayer  an'  hev  allus  bin  'onest  an'  'ard~workin't  ar*'  'ad 


352  THE  MASSARENE8. 

his  left  arm  cut  hoff  IWQ  summers  ago  by  a  goods-train,  and 
hev  arsktfor  'Elp  art  got  no  'Elp  Jcos  'e  be  a  non-  Union  man, 
and  the  Line  say  as  how  'twas  Ys  own  fault  ''cos  7e  'ad  gone 
to  sleep  on  the  metals.  Now  this  'ere  man,  sir — name  as  is 
Robert  Airley,  native  o*  Haddington,  N.B. — says  as  'ow  he 
Jud  be  a  rich  un  now  but  'e  med  a  mistek:  Je  sold  a  claim  to  a 
bit  Jo  ground  as  'ad  tin  in  it  to  this  'ere  Hassarene  when  he 
was  young  an'  starving  an'  'is  wife  in  pains  o'  labor. 
Robert  Airley  'e  say  he  found  some  sparkles  sticking  to  roots 
o'  grass,  an'  didn't  know  wot  'twas,  an'  show  it  to  Hassarene, 
who  was  thinkippen  a  drink  and  play  saloon  in  Kerosene, 
and  Massarene  bought  his  claim  to  the  land  for  thirty  dollars 
and  ever  arterwards  dared  Robert  to  prove  it,  and  prove  he 
couldn't,  but  says  as  how  'tis  God  Amighty's  truth  as  he 
owned  the  tin  and  sold  'is  rights  un-be-known  as  I  tell  ye. 
Bein'  allies  very  pore  he  couldn't  git  away  from  Kerosene, 
and  went  on  Main  Trunk  as  plate-layer,  an'  noio  he  arsks 
yer  '  Onor  to  see  Blasted  Blizzard  and  tell  'im  as  'ow  'e  can 
work  no  more  and  'e  must  be  purvidedfor.  I  writt  this  for 
'im  'cos  Robert  can't  writt  'isself  an'  I  be  your  'Onor's 
'umble  servant, 

GEORGE  MATHERS, 

Lamp-cleaner  on  K.I.C.  Line. 

Written  in  engine-house. 

Native  o'  Sudbury,  Suffolk,  England,  and  out  in  this 
damned  country  sore  agen  his  will.  Direct  Robert  Airley, 
Post  Office,  Kerosene  City,  North  Dakota,  U.  S.  A. 

The  Consul-General  read  this  letter  twice  through  very 
carefully,  for  its  spelling  and  its  blots  made  it  difficult  of 
comprehension.  It  did  not  astonish  him,  for  he  knew  a 
good  deal  about  the  antecedents  of  the  owner  of  Harren- 
den  House  and  Vale  Royal.  He  had  never  alluded  to 
them  in  English  society,  because  if  American  consuls 
once  began  to  tell  what  they  know,  society  in  Europe 
would  be  decimated  at  once. 

The  letter  did  not  astonish  him  but  it  made  him  very 
uncomfortable.  He  was  a  person  of  amiable  disposition 
and  he  felt  that  it  would  be  unkind  to  wholly  neglect  so 
pitiful  and  just  an  appeal.  Yet  to  address  the  owner  of 


THE  MASSARENES.  353 

Harrenden  House  and  Vale  Royal,  on  such  a  subject  was 
an  extremely  unpleasant  task,  one  which  he  was  not  dis- 
posed for  a  moment  to  accept.  To  tell  Solomon  in  all  his 
glory  that  he  had  kept  a  drink  and  play  saloon,  and 
cheated  about  a  placer  claim,  demanded  a  degree  of  audac- 
ity which  is  not  required  by  governments  from  those  ex- 
cellent public  servants  who  sit  in  consular  offices  and  in 
chancelleries  to  indite  reports  which  are  to  be  pigeon- 
holed unread,  and  throw  oil  on  the  troubled  waters  of  in- 
ternational commerce. 

He  had  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  statements  of  the 
letter  were  true  ;  he  remembered  having  heard  it  said  by 
some  members  of  Congress  in  Washington  a  score  of  years 
before  that  the  Penamunic  Tin  Mine  had  been  obtained 
by  Massarene  through  a  chance  more  fortunate  than 
honest,  and  nothing  which  any  one  could  have  told  him 
of  the  past  of  Blasted  Blizzard  would  have  ever  found 
him  incredulous.  He  knew  too  well  on  what  foundations 
the  fortunes  of  such  men  are  built. 

"  This  is  very  dreadful/'  he  said  to  the  Vice-Consul, 
when  the  latter  had  read  the  letter.  "  But  you  see  the 
man  is  a  native  of  Haddington.  I  cannot  admit  that  he 
should  apply  to  us.  We  are  clearly  only  here  to  assist 
American  subjects.  If  it  were  a  matter  of  a  kind  on 
which  I  could  approach  Mr.  Massarene  as  amicus  curice,  I 
would  do  so.  But  on  such  a  matter  as  this  it  would  be 
impossible  to  speak  to  him  without  offence.  Will  you  be 
so  good  as  to  write  to  the  man  Mathers,  and  tell  him  that 
our  office  is  not  the  channel  through  which  his  friend — er 
— what  is  his  name  ? — Robert  Airley,  can  apply  ;  tell  him 
he  should  address  the  English  Consul  General  in  New 
York." 

"Poor  devils!"  said  the  Vice-Consul,  who  knew  well 
what  is  meant  by  the  dreary  and  interminable  labyrinth 
of  official  assistance  and  interference. 

"You  know  Massarene  very  well,"  he  ventured  to  add. 
"Couldn't  you  suggest  to  him 

"Certainly  not,"  said  his  chief  decidedly.  "  Massarene 
is  an  English  subject.  So  is  Robert  Airley.  So  is  George 
Mathers.  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  of  them. 
They  have  never  been  naturalized.  The  application  is 

33 


354  THE  MASSAEENES. 

entirely  irregular.  Eeturn  the  letter  and  tell  them  to 
address  the  English  Consul-General  at  New  York." 

The  Vice-Consul  did  so  ;  and  in  due  time  a  similar 
letter  was  sent  to  the  English  Consul-General  at  New 
York  by  George  Mathers,  who  added  to  it  that  the  wife 
of  Robert  Airley  had  died  a  week  earlier  of  pneumonia 
brought  on  by  want  of  food. 

The  English  Consul-General  returned  the  letter  ad- 
dressed to  him,  and  informed  the  writer  that  he  could  not 
interfere  between  employer  and  employed,  or  in  any  pri- 
vate quarrel  at  any  time  ;  the  matter  was  not  within  his 
competence. 

Then  the  Suffolk  man,  who  worked  in  the  engine-house 
and  cleaned  railway  lamps,  wrote  direct  to  William  Mas- 
sarene,  London.  This  address  was  of  course  sufficient. 
The  letter  found  its  way  in  due  course  to  Harrenden 
House  and  arrived  there  a  week  after  the  opening  of  Par- 
liament, amongst  many  coroneted  envelopes,  appeals  for 
subscriptions,  and  political  pamphlets.  It  was  candid, 
simple,  ingenuous,  but  it  was  certainly  not  politic,  and 
was  extremely  impolite.  It  began  abruptly : — 

"  William  Massarene,  Sir — Blasted  Blizzard,  as  we  used 
to  call  yer — you'll  remember  Robert  Airley,  though  they  say 
you  figger  as  a  swell  now  in  Lonnon  town.  We've  wrote  to 
Consuls  and  They  won't  do  nought,  so  I  write  this  for  Robert 
to  you.  You,  bought  Robert's  claim  ;  you  knew  'twas  tin,  yet 
ye  niver  giv  'im  nought  but  thetty  dollars.  Robert  hasworkd 
on  yer  Line  twenty  year  if  One,  an'  'e  can  work  no  More. 
'Is  wife  she  ded  last  Month,  'cos  she  were  out  o'  food,  an'  'is 
Son  be  ded  too — rin  over  on  yer  Line.  Ye're  Bound  to  give 
'im  enuff  to  kip  'is  life  in  him.  Not  to  speak  o'  the  placer  - 
claim  as  ye  took  and  found  yer  mine  in  it.  Robert's  a  ole 
servant  on  the  Line,  an'  ye  be  bound  to  kip  life  in  'im.  Ye 
was  allus  close-fisted  an'  main  'ard,  and  a  Blackgud  in  all 
ways,  but  they  ses  as  'ow  ye  be  a  swell  now,  an'  it  won't  Be- 
come ye  to  let  a  ole  servant  starve  as  was  allus  God-fearin' 
an'  law-abidin',  an'  'ave  workt  as  'ard  as  a  'oss,  an'  never 
brott  the  tin  claim  ay  en  ye,  tho'  ye  cheated  so  bad." 

The  letter  was  signed  as  that  to  the  Consul  had  been, 
and  Massarene  read  it  from  the  first  line  to  the  last. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  355 

He  had  two  secretaries  at  this  time,  young  men  of  good 
family  and  university  education,  of  whom  he  stood  in  per- 
petual awe  ;  but  he  never  allowed  these  youths  to  see  his 
correspondence  until  it  had  been  examined  by  himself. 
He  received  too  many  letters  menacing  and  injurious,  con- 
taining too  many  references  to  his  past  existence,  for  the 
bland  and  supercilious  young  gentlemen  to  be  trusted 
with  their  perusal.  Therefore  the  letter  from  the  two 
railway  men  in  North  Dakota  came  direct  into  his  own 
hands  as  he  sat  in  his  library  before  a  table  covered  with 
papers  and  blue  books,  and  surrounded  by  well-filled 
book-shelves  off  which  he  never  removed  a  volume. 
When  he  had  read  it  his  face  was  terrible  to  behold.  One 
of  his  footmen  coming  in  to  look  at  the  fire  was  frightened 
at  its  black  savage  terrible  scowl.  It  is  hard  for  any  man 
to  find  his  past  always  rising  up  like  Banquo's  ghost 
against  him  ;  to  William  Massarene  it  was  insupportable. 

He  had  a  long  memory ;  he  never  forgot  a  face  or  a 
name.  He  remembered  all  about  Robert  Airley  the  mo- 
ment his  eyes  fell  on  the  letter.  It  was  thirty  years  be- 
fore that  the  Lowland  Scotch  emigrant,  who  had  none  of 
the  proverbial  canniness  of  his  race,  but  was  a  simple  and 
trustful  lad  of  some  twenty-four  years  old,  had  come  into 
Kerosene  City,  one  of  a  wagon-full  of  weary  folks ;  there 
were  no  railways  then  within  a  thousand  miles.  But  he 
did  not  trust  only  to  memory.  He  had  brought  with  him 
to  England  all  his  old  ledgers,  account  books,  folios  of 
every  kind  filling  many  cases,  and  all  now  filed,  docketed, 
and  arranged  in  locked  cases  in  a  small  study  of  which  he 
kept  the  key  on  his  watch-chain.  He  went  to  this  little 
room  now,  and,  with  the  precise  and  orderly  recollection 
for  which  his  brain  was  conspicuous,  went  straight  to  the 
books  which  referred  to  the  tenth  year  of  his  residence  in 
Dakota.  It  took  him  some  forty  minutes  to  find  the 
entry  which  he  required,  but  he  did  find  it. 

"  Paid  Robert  Airley  the  sum  of  one  dollar  for  speci- 
mens of  tin  ore."  "  Paid  Robert  Airley  the  sum  of  thirty 
dollars  for  his  claim  at  Penamunic."  The  transaction 
was  perfectly  legitimate  and  legal.  Appended  were  the 
receipts  of  the  said  Airley  and  the  deed  which  transferred 
the  land.  Twenty-nine  years  had  gone  by  and  the  ink 


356  THE  MASSARENES. 

had  rusted  and  the  paper  grown  yellow,  but  the  record 
was  there. 

The  fool  had  sold  his  bit  of  prairie  land  out  and  out 
and  the  tin  under  the  soil  of  it.  He  had  done  it  with  his 
eyes  open.  Who  could  complain  of  free  contract? 

To  Robert  Airley  it  had  seemed  a  poor  bit  of  soil,  good 
for  naught  in  husbandry,  and  his  young  wife  had  been 
ailing  and  her  first  delivery  at  hand  ;  and  he  had  been  • 
glad  to  get  the  dollars  to  buy  her  what  she  wanted. 
Many  men  were  in  the  settlement  who  could  have  told 
him  not  to  sell  his  placer -claim  for  a  mess  of  pottage,  but 
there  was  no  one  who  cared  to  go  against  Blasted  Blizzard, 
and,  in  new  townships  where  shooting  irons  are  arguments, 
men  mind  their  own  business. 

William  Massarene  locked  up  the  ledger  and  the  case 
containing  it,  and  went  back  to  his  library.  He  then  sat 
down  and  wrote  a  cypher  telegram  to  his  manager  in 
Kerosene  City:  "Tell  platelayer  Airley  he  won't  get  a 
red  cent  from  me.  Accident  was  due  to  his  own  careless- 
ness." 

He  wrote  this  because  he  was  in  a  towering  rage  at  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  addressed.  Perhaps  at 
some  other  moment,  or  if  addressed  more  humbly,  he 
might  have  bought  off  these  men  as  he  had  previously 
bought  off  others ;  but  this  letter  had  come  to  him  in  an 
hour  when  he  was  filled  with  vainglory  and  self-satisfac- 
tion. Only  the  previous  day  he  had  been  at  a  banquet 
given  him  by  the  Conservatives  of  the  county  he  repre- 
sented. His  blood  was  still  warm,  his  vanity  still  fer- 
menting like  yeast,  at  the  memory  of  the  compliments 
paid  to  him  by  the  great  personages  present ;  the  praises 
of  his  glorious  self-made  position,  the  homage  offered  to 
him  in  the  name  of  Great  Britain.  The  Leader  of  the 
House  had  given  him  to  understand  that  when  there  was 
next  any  vacancy  or  change  he  would  be  offered  a  place 
in  the  administration  :  the  great  county  folks  at  the 
county  banquet  had  heaped  adulation  upon  him,  for  they 
wanted  him  to  make  a  new  short-route  railway  line  to 
London;  the  Times  newspaper  had  had  a  leader  conse- 
crated to  himself  and  to  his  admirable  promise  as  a  future 
chief  in  the  political  world.  And  in  such  a  moment  of 


TEE  MASSARENES.  357 

supreme  distinction  a  platelayer  and  a  lamp- cleaner  dared 
to  write  to  him  that  he  had  been  always  a  "  blackgud  "  ! 

Acute  as  his  mind  was,  and  vast  as  had  been  the  sums 
which  he  had  expended  in  shipping  his  own  and  his  wife's 
people  to  Australia,  so  as  not  to  be  annoyed  by  their  de- 
mands or  vicinity,  he  should  have  been  willing  to  spend 
the  insignificant  sum  which  would  have  pensioned  and 
quieted  Robert  Airley ;  he  should  also  have  given  some- 
thing to  the  Suffolk  lamp-cleaner  and  thanked  him  ;  both 
men  would  have  praised  him  in  the  city  where  his  fortune 
had  been  first  made.  But  the  wrath  which  was  in  him 
for  once  clouded  his  keen  perception ;  he  would  not  have 
given  either  of  the  poor  devils  a  crust  of  bread  to  save 
their  life  or  his  own. 

The  survival  of  the  strongest  was  the  law  of  nature ;  he 
had  heard  a  sociologist  say  so.  Even  beasts  in  the  woods 
followed  that  rule;  the  bison  and  the  opossum  and  the 
jaguar  and  the  bear  deferred  to  that  law.  How  should 
men  defy  or  dare  to  demur  to  it  ? 

Because  a  weak  sawney  of  a  long-limbed  emigrant  had 
not  owned  brains  enough  to  see  what  was  under  the  soil 
which  had  been  given  him,  could  he  blame  a  keener  and 
stronger  man,  already  on  the  soil,  for  having  had  the  wit 
to  know  what  ore  was  hidden  under  the  rank  grass  and 
the  juniper  scrub?  Clearly,  no.  Fortune  favored  those 
who  helped  themselves. 

"A  blackgud  in  all  ways  "! 

Did  a  wretched  railway  hand  dare  to  write  this  to  a 
colossus  of  finance  whose  brain  was  shrewder  and  whose 
pile  was  bigger  than  those  of  any  man  on  the  Corporation 
of  London  ?  William  Massarene  felt  as  a  Burmese  Bud- 
dha, hung  with  gold  and  jewels,  may  be  supposed  to  feel 
when  a  Cook's  tourist  pokes  at  him  with  the  brass  ferule 
of  an  umbrella. 

On  a  man  of  breeding  the  insults  of  inferiors  fall  with- 
out power  to  wound;  but  to  a  man  of  low  origin  and 
enormous  pretension  they  are  the  most  intolerable  of 
offences.  For  one  brief  moment  all  his  greatness  seemed 
to  him  as  ashes  in  his  moutfy  if  these  workingmen  out  in 
North  Dakota  did  not  bow  down  before  his  glory.  It  was 
delightful  to  be  called  "  my  dear  friend  "  by  the  proud 


358  THE  MASSAEENE8. 

Premier  of  England  ;  it  was  delightful  to  be  complimented 
on  his  stables  and  his  dinners  by  royal  princes ;  it  was 
delightful  to  be  consulted  as  a  financial  authority  by  the 
Governor  of  the  Bank  of  England;  but  all  these  delights 
seemed  nothing  at  all  if  a  platelayer  and  a  lamp-cleaner 
could  refuse  to  acknowledge  his  godhead.  He  knew  if 
he  drove  through  Kerosene  City  next  month  the  whole 
population  of  it  would  turn  out  in  his  honor;  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  State,  the  mayor  of  the  town,  the  sheriff  of 
the  county,  the  members  it  sent  to  Congress,  its  senators, 
its  solicitors,  its  merchants,  its  manufacturers,  its  hotel- 
keepers,  its  white  men  and  its  black  men,  would  all  be  in 
the  streets  to  cheer  and  welcome  him,  to  feast  and  flatter 
him,  to  hang  out  the  Union  Jack  and  the  star-spangled 
banner  side  by  side  in  the  oily,  sooty,  reeking  air  from  the 
ten-storied  houses  and  the  towering  factories.  But  in  the 
background  there  would  be  two  grimy  railway  hands  who 
would  shout  "  Blackgud !  " 

This  passing  weakness  was  brief;  he  was  not  a  man  of 
sentiment.  The  two  railway  hands  might  scream  what 
libellous  rubbish  they  liked.  Nobody  would  listen  to 
them.  Curses  many,  loud  and  deep,  had  followed  him 
throughout  his  career ;  but  they  were  a  chorus  which  at- 
tested the  success  of  that  career.  What  he  heard  now 
were  the  cheers  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

His  sense  of  humiliation  was  momentary ;  his  sense  of 
his  fury  was  lasting.  He  would  have  strangled  the  two 
men  with  his  own  hands  if  they  had  been  in  sight. 

Many  bones  must  whiten  in  the  building  of  a  pyramid, 
and  William  Massarene  had  but  done  what  the  Pharaohs 
did.  Only  their  structure  was  of  brick,  and  his  of  bul- 
lion. 

The  letter  had  only  moved  him  to  a  momentary  sense 
of  fear ;  it  passed  almost  as  soon  as  roused ;  but  his  bitter 
Wrath  remained,  a  fire  unquenchable. 

Temper  is  always  a  bad  adviser.  It  advised  him  badly 
now.  A  very  small  annuity  would  have  quieted  Robert 
Airley,  who  knew  that  he  had  no  legal  claim,  and  had  not 
long  to  live,  for  he  had  a  tumor  in  his  stomach.  But 
when  the  manager  of  the  Main  Trunk  Line  gave  the  reply 
of  its  owner  to  the  platelayer,  he,  who  was  a  gentle  and 


*fHE  MASSAKENES.  359 

patient  man,  worn-out  with  hard  work  and  sorrow,  felt  a 
devil  enter  into  him  and  seize  his  very  soul. 

He  said  nothing,  but  the  manager  thought,  "The  boss 
might  have  given  the  poor  fellow  a  few  dollars  a  week. 
After  all,  the  Penamunic  ore  was  found  on  his  claim,  and 
he's  been  on  this  line  ever  since  the  metals  were  laid." 

But  the  manager  cared  too  well  to  keep  his  own  post, 
and  knew  William  Massarene  too  well  to  venture  to  ex- 
press this  opinion. 

"  My  dear  child,  something  has  riled  your  father  dread- 
ful," said  Mrs.  Massarene  after  luncheon  that  day;  "he's 
got  his  black  cap  on ;  oh,  I  always  calls  it  his  black  cap 
when  he  looks  thunder  and  lightning  like,  as  he  do  to-day, 
and  swallers  his  food  without  a  word." 

"Perhaps  the  Prince  is  not  coming  on  the  tenth,"  said 
her  daughter,  with  that  inflection  of  contempt  which  she 
knew  was  unfilial,  and  which  they  told  her  was  disloyal. 

Mrs.  Massarene  shook  her  head. 

"  The  Prince  always  comes  here.  He  don't  get  better 
dinners  nowhere  ;  and  he's  a  deal  o'  use  for  your  father  in 
many  ways.  'Tisn't  that.  I  am  afeared  'tis  some  of  the 
folks  out  in  Dakota  as  bothers  him." 

"  He  must  have  so  many  who  hate  him  !  "  said  Kathe- 
rine. 

"  Well,  yes,  my  dear,  no  doubt,"  said  his  wife  mourn- 
fully.    "  Did  you  ever  see  a  hogshead  o'  molasses  without  \ 
wasps  ?     He  have  a  very  big  fortune,  has  your  father." 

Katherine  was  silent. 

"  Do  you  know,  if  he  were  to  die,  what  he  would  do 
with  it?"  she  said  after  awhile. 

"  Why,  leave  it  to  you,  my  dear.  Who  else  should 
have  it?" 

"I  hope  he  would  not.  I  am  sure  he  would  not.  I 
have  displeased  and  opposed  him  too  often.  I  think  he 
will  bequeath  it  in  such  a  manner  that  it  shall  be  a  per- 
petual monument  to  himself." 

"  He'll  leave  it  to  you,  my  dear.  Nature  is  nature,  even 
in  a  man  like  your  father." 

Katherine  shuddered. 

"  If  I  thought  there  was  any  fear  of  that  I  would  speak 
to  him  about  it." 


360  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  me,  child,  don't  dream  of  such  a 
thing  ! "  said  Mrs.  Massarene,  in  trepidation.  "  Twould 
be  firing  dynamite!  In  the  first  place,  you'd  never  turn 
him — nobody  ever  could — his  mind's  made  up,  }^ou  may 
be  sure,  and  nothing  you  could  say  would  change  it;  but, 
oh  Lord !  if  you  was  to  hint  to  him  that  he  must  die  one 
day,  he'd  never  forgive  it;  he's  one  o'  them  as  thinks  he 
can  square  Almighty  God.  'Twouldn't  be  decent  either, 
you  know.  'Twould  look  as  if  you  was  counting  on  his 
going  and  wishing  for  his  pile." 

"  If  you  think  it  would  look  like  that  I  will  say  nothing, 
But  I  should  beg  him  to  leave  me  out  of  his  will  alto- 
gether." 

"  He  wouldn't  believe  you  meant  it,"  said  her  mother. 
"  He  wouldn't  believe  anybody  could  mean  it.  He  would 
think  you  was  trying  to  find  out  how  much  he's  worth 
and  how  much  you'll  get." 

Katherine  Massarene  sighed  and  abandoned  the  argu- 
ment. She  went  to  ride  in  the  Park  with  a  heavy  and 
anxious  spirit.  The  season  was  odious  to  her  ;  all  which 
to  most  women  of  her  age  would  have  been  delightful 
was,  to  her,  tedious  and  oppressive  beyond  description. 
The  sense  that  she  was  always  being  pointed  out  as  Wil- 
liam Massarene's  daughter  destroyed  such  pleasure  as  she 
might  have  taken  in  the  music,  the  art,  the  intellectual 
and  political  life  of  London.  The  sense  that  she  was  con- 
tinually on  show  shut  up  her  lips  and  gave  her  that  slight- 
ing contempt  and  coldness  of  manner  which  repelled  both 
men  and  women.  The  many  offers  for  her  hand  which 
were  made  were  addressed  to  her  father;  no  one  was  bold 
enough  to  address  them  to  herself.  Everybodj',  except  a 
few  aged  people,  thought  her  a  most  disagreeable  young 
woman. 

"Refuse  every  offer  made  to  you — I  do  not  mean  to 
marry,"  she  had  said  once  to  him ;  and  he  had  replied  : 

"  You  will  marry  when  I  order  you  to  do  so." 

But  there  was  something  in  her  regard  which  restrained 
him  from  ordering  her,  though  he  received  various  pro- 
posals which  tempted  him.  What  he  wished  for,  however, 
was  an  English  duke  if  a  royal  one  was  not  to  be  had,  and 
there  was  no  duke  in  the  market,  they  were  all  married  or 


THE  MASSARENES.  361 

minors.  So  for  the  present  he  left  her  in  peace  concern- 
ing her  settlement  in  life. 

Her  heart  was  heavy  as  she  rode  over  the  tan,  her 
thoroughbred  mare  dancing  airily  beneath  her.  She  was 
a  fine  rider  and  quite  fearless ;  but  she  hated  park-riding 
amongst  a  mob  of  other  people  with  a  staring  crowd  at 
the  rails.  "  A  circus  would  be  better,"  she  thought.  She 
passed  Hurstmanceaux,  who  was  riding  a  young  Irish 
horse ;  he  lifted  his  hat  slightly  with  a  very  cold  expres- 
sion on  his  face. 

Jack  was  with  him,  promoted  to  a  Welsh  pony  of  four- 
teen hands,  Tom  Tit  having  passed  to  the  use  of  his 
brother  Gerald.  Jack  and  Boo  had  been  sent  for  by  their 
mother,  who  had  again  the  loan  of  the  Wisbeach  house, 
her  sister  being  this  year  in  Nebraska  for  shooting. 

Jack  was  feeling  quite  a  man,  his  pretty  long  curls  had 
been  cut  off,  he  had  a  tutor  chosen  by  Lord  Augustus,  he 
had  a  hunting-watch  in  his  pocket,  and  he  was  wondering 
when  he  should  be  allowed  to  smoke.  Manhood  was  not 
all  roses.  He  never  heard  anything  of  Harry,  and  he  did 
not  see  much  of  Boo. 

Jack  looked  after  Katherine  Massarene  and  her  beauti- 
ful mare. 

"  That's  the  daughter  of  the  old  fat  man  who  gives 
mammy  such  a  lot  of  money,"  he  said,  as  he  rode  onward. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  startled 
and  stern. 

Jack  was  frightened. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  repeated  his  uncle. 

"  Old  man  is  made  of  money,"  he  said  evasively ;  his 
uncle,  very  high  above  him,  very  erect  and  severe,  looking 
down  with  sternly  searching  eyes,  was  an  object  of  fear  to 
Jack. 

"  But  why  do  you  say  your  mother  has  his  money  ?  You 
must  have  some  reason.  Answer,"  said  Ronald,  in  a  tone 
which  did  not  admit  of  refusal. 

"  The — the — person  who  told  me  knew.  But  I  can't 
tell  you  who  it  was,"  said  Jack,  with  a  resolute  look  on 
his  face. 

The  "person"  had  been  Boo.  Hurstmanceaux  placed 
a  great  effort  on  himself  to  desist  from  further  enquiry. 


362  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  You  are  right  not  to  betray  your  friends,"  he  said, 
"  But  you  would  do  better  still  not  to  repeat  their  false- 
hoods." 

Jack  did  not  reply,  but  from  the  expression  on  his  face 
it  was  plain  that  he  did  not  think  he  had  repeated  false- 
hoods. 

Ronald  was  about  to  say  something  to  him  about  his 
obligation  to  protect  his  mother  from  such  calumnies,  but 
it  was  not  the  time  or  place  for  lectures  on  duty ;  and  he 
was  painfully  conscious  that,  the  older  Jack  grew,  the  less 
esteem  would  he  entertain  for  his  mother  and  the  more 
true  would  such  statements  be  likely  to  seem  to  him. 
What  the  child  had  said  was  like  a  thorn  in  his  own  flesh. 
He  had  thought  better  of  his  sister  since  her  surrender  of 
the  Otterbourne  jewels,  and  he  had  tried  to  persuade  him- 
self that  all  her  previous  faults  and  follies  had  been  due 
to  the  wrongdoing  of  her  husband.  The  boy's  unfortu- 
nate speech  was  like  a  bolt  in  a  clear  sky.  For  it  was 
certain  that  Jack  could  not  have  had  such  an  idea  himself 
without  suggestion  from  others,  and  though  it  was  proba- 
bly the  mere  garbage  of  the  servants'  hall,  it  was  never- 
theless miserably  certain  that  some  such  story  must  be  in 
circulation. 

He  continued  his  ride  in  great  anxiety. 

He  knew  nothing  of  the  affair  with  Beaumont,  but 
many  other  things  rose  to  his  memory ;  the  sale  of  Vale 
Royal,  the  sale  of  Blair  Airon,  her  incessant  patronage  of 
the  Massarenes,  the  persuasion  used  by  her  to  induce  great 
and  royal  persons  to  go  to  their  houses — all  this  recurred 
to  him  in  damning  confirmation  of  the  suspicions  raised  by 
Jack's  words.  He  felt  that  he  must  not  question  the  child 
further ;  he  could  not  in  honor  put  her  little  son  in  the 
witness-box  against  her ;  but  the  charge  contained  in 
Jack's  words  seemed  so  horrible  to  him  that  as  he  rode 
past  Harrenden  House  he  was  tempted  to  stop  and  enter, 
and  take  the  owner  of  it  by  the  throat,  and  force  the  truth 
out  of  him. 

He  remembered  how  much  money  she  had  spent  that 
he  had  never  been  able  to  account  for;  how  large  her  ex- 
penditure had  been,  despite  the  slenderness  of  her  jointure 
since  the  death  of  Cocky;  how  obstinately  Roxhall  had 


THE  MASSARENES.  363 

always  refused  to  tell  him  anything  whatever  about  the 
conditions  of  the  sale  of  Vale  Royal,  alleging  that  it  was  a 
thing  he  was  ashamed  of  and  of  which  he  would  never 
speak;  and  Roxhall  he  knew  had  always  been  in  love 
with  her,  and  turned  by  her  at  her  will  round  her  little 
finger. 

Something  of  this  kind  he  had  long  ago  suspected  and 
feared,  but  the  truth  had  never  been  visible  to  him  in  its 
naked  venality  before  this  morning  ride  with  Jack.  So 
long  as  Cocky  had  been  alive,  although  it  had  been  dis- 
graceful enough,  it  had  not  seemed  so  utterly  abominable 
as  it  did  now  to  know  that  his  sister  obtained  her  luxuries 
by  such  expedients.  What  to  do  he  could  not  telL  She 
did  not  acknowledge  his  authority  in  any  way,  and  set 
the  law  at  defiance  as  far  as  she  could,  even  as  concerned 
his  jurisdiction  over  her  children.  He  could  riot  accuse 
her  without  proof,  and  he  had  none;  accusation  also  was 
useless — she  was  wholly  indifferent  to  his  opinion  and 
censure.  Her  position  in  the  world  remained  intact,  and 
it  was  not  her  brother's  place  to  proclaim  her  unworthy 
to  occupy  it.  That  which  he  longed  to  do — to  take  Wil- 
liam Massarene  by  the  throat  and  shake  the  truth  out  of 
him — was  impossible  by  reason  of  his  own  habits,  man- 
ners, and  social  sphere,  in  which  all  such  brawling  was 
considered  only  fit  for  cads. 

uHow  very  angry  he  looks!"  thought  Jack,  and  was 
glad  when  he  had  got  away  and  changed  his  riding-clothes, 
and  run  upstairs  to  Boo.  It  was  not  very  often  now  that 
he  was  allowed  to  scamper  up  to  the  children's  tea  and 
daub  himself  with  honey  and  marmalade,  and  pile  sugar 
on  hot  buttered  toast.  The  servants  called  him  "sir,"  and 
Boo's  governess  called  him  "  M.  le  Due."  It  was  all 
deadly  dull,  and  Jack  envied  the  hall-boy. 

"  You  will  have  a  great  stake  in  the  country,"  said  his 
tutor. 

"A  beefsteak  ?  "  said  saucy  Jack,  and  was  set  to  write 
out  a  line  fifty  times,  which  was  very  hard  work  to  a  little 
man  who  could  only  move  a  pen  with  extreme  slowness 
and  stiffness  in  letters  an  inch  high,  for  his  education  had 
been  extremely  neglected. 

He  admired  his  uncle  Ronald  because  Hurstmanceaux 


364  THE  MASSARENES. 

was  the  kind  of  man  whom  boys  always  do  admire ;  but 
he  was  afraid  of  him,  and  he  sighed  for  his  beloved  Harry. 
There  was  nobody  like  Harry  in  all  the  wide  world,  and 
where  had  his  idol  gone  ? 

u  Not  ever  to  write  !  "  said  Jack  to  himself,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  say  anything  about  his  anxiety 
even  to  Boo,  for  Boo  was  at  no  time  sympathetic,  and  was 
at  this  moment  delirious  with  town  joys,  having  gone  to  a 
morning  performance,  some  tableaux  viv ants,  and  a  water- 
color  exhibition  all  in  one  day,  wearing  a  marvelous  pic- 
ture-hat and  a  new  bracelet-watch. 

Except  by  Jack,  Brancepeth  was  wholly  forgotten,  con- 
signed to  that  oblivion  which  society  spreads  like  a  pall 
over  even  the  memories  of  the  absent.  His  father  and 
mother  heard  from  him  at  intervals ;  no  one  else.  He 
was  one  of  the  many  who  have  gone  too  fast,  who  pull  up 
perforce,  and  drop  off  the  course:  such  non -stayers  inter- 
est no  one.  The  men  with  whom  he  had  gone  out  to  the 
South  Pole,  and  later  to  the  Cape,  returned,  and  said  they 
had  left  him  there.  That  was  all.  He  had  spoken  of  ex- 
ploration. They  supposed  that  meant  he  had  gone  "  on 
the  make."  He  had  been  a  very  popular  man,  but  popu- 
larity is  a  flame  which  must  be  kept  alight  by  the  fuel  of 
contact  and  of  conversation :  absence  extinguishes  it 
instantly. 

Jack  thought  about  a  great  many  things,  especially  when 
he  was  shut  up  for  his  sins  all  alone,  an  event  which  oc- 
curred frequently. 

The  sum  of  his  thoughts  were  not  favorable  to  his 
mother. 

"  Mother  has  driven  Harry  away,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Why? 

Perhaps  because  Harry  had  come  to  an  end  of  his 
money?  Perhaps  Harry  had  finished  it  all  buying  that 
Punch  which  his  mother  had  taken  from  him? 

"If  I  was  sure  of  that,  and  if  I  knew  where  he  was,  I'd 
walk  all  the  world  over  till  I  found  him,"  thought  Jack; 
and  wondered  how  he  could  make  out  where  Harry  was 
gone.  No  one  ever  even  spoke  of  Harry.  Who  could  hs 
ask?  He  asked  his  groom  one  morning  when  he  had 
halted  under  a  tree  very  early  in  the  Park. 


THE  MASSAKENES.  365 

"I  have  no  idea,  sir,  where  Lord  Brancepeth  is,"  said 
the  groom,  who  was  a  miracle  of  discretion. 

"Couldn't  you  ask?"  said  Jack. 

"I  don't  think  I  could,  sir." 

"Wherever  he  is,  he's  got  Cuckoopint." 

"Has  he  indeed,  sir?" 

"Yes;  because  he  promised.  He  always  keeps  a 
promise." 

"  That's  a  very  good  quality,  sir." 

"He's  all  good,"  said  Jack  solemnly. 

The  discreet  groom  smothered  a  smile. 

"I'll  give  you  five  shillings,  Philips,  if  you  can  find  him 
and  Cuckoopint,"  said  Jack,  pulling  two  half-crowns  out 
of  his  knickerbockers. 

"Make  it  ten,  sir,  and  I'll  do  it,"  said  the  virtuous 
groom. 

"I'll  make  it  ten,"  said  Jack.  "But  it  must  be  next 
week,  for  I've  spent  all  they  give  me  except  this." 

"  Next  week  will  do,  sir,"  said  the  groom,  slipping  the 
half-crowns  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

Jack  did  not  speak  of  this  transaction  to  anyone,  not 
even  to  Boo.  He  loved  his  sister,  but  he  had  discovered 
of  late  years  that  Boo,  to  "get  in  with  mammy  "  and  get 
taken  to  a  garden  party  or  a  pastoral  play  or  a  picture 
exhibition,  would  not  hesitate  to  betray  him  and  his 
confidences. 

"I  wouldn't  ever  betray  you"  he  said  once  in  reproach. 

"  Then  you'd  be  a  silly  not  to,  if  you'd  get  anything 
by  it,"  said  Boo,  with  her  little  chin  in  the  air  and  her 
big  eyes  shut  up  into  two  slits,  which  was  her  manner  of 
expressing  extreme  derision. 

<4  You're  so  dishon'able  'cause  you're  a  girl,"  said  Jack, 
wifch  more  sorrow  than  anger. 

Every  day  for  a  week  Jack  asked  Philips  breathlessly, 
"  Well  ?  "  but  Philips  prudently  would  not  admit  any 
knowledge  until  the  next  week  arrived,  when  Jack  en- 
tered into  his  month's  allowance  and  produced  the  third 
and  fourth  half-crowns. 

"If  you  please,  your  Grace,"  then  said  this  prudent 
person,  "  the  cob  as  is  called  Cuckoopint  is  down  at 
Market  Harborough,  in  Lord  Brancepeth's  box  there." 


366  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  He  did  buy  him,  then  ?" 

"  Yessir." 

"And  he— Harry  ?" 

"  His  lordship,  sir,  went  to  the  South  Pole  the  summer 
before  last  with  Lord  Tenby  and  Sir  Francis  Yorke  and 
two  other  gentlemen  ;  his  lordship  have  left  the  Service 
altogether,  sir." 

"Left  the  Guards!" 

Jack  was  dumbfounded.  He  had  always  been  so 
pleased  to  see  Harry  riding  down  Portland  Place  or  Kens- 
ington Road  with  all  those  beautiful  horses  and  cuirasses 
and  jackboots. 

"  Where's  the  South  Pole  ?  "  he  asked  piteously.  Of 
the  North  Pole  he  had  heard. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Philips,  much  bored  ;  he  had 
had  enough  of  a  subject  which  only  brought  him  in  four 
half-crowns. 

Jack  had  to  wait  till  his  ride  was  over  and  he  could  go 
in  the  house  and  get  down  his  atlas  and  look  for  the 
South  Pole;  he  did  not  make  the  position  out  to  his  sat- 
isfaction in  the  atlas  and  he  turned  to  the  terrestrial 
globe  ;  then  indeed  he  realized  how  many  weary  leagues 
divided  him  from  his  friend.  He  leaned  on  the  great 
globe  and  put  his  head  down  on  it  and  cried  bitterly.  Oh, 
how  he  hated  his  mother !  It  was  his  mother  who  had 
sent  Harry  away  ! 

"'Cause  he'd  done  all  his  money!"  he  thought  in- 
dignantly. But  how  good  it  was  of  Harry  with  no  money 
to  keep  his  word  and  buy  Cuckoopint ! 

His  tutor  came  in  and  found  him  crying;  poor  Jack 
had  the  penalty  of  position — he  was  never  left  alone. 

The  tutor  asked  in  a  rather  dry  tone  what  was  the 
matter.  Jack,  ashamed  of  his  grief,  brushed  the  hot 
tears  from  his  eyelashes  and  tried  to  check  his  sobs. 

"It  is  quite  a  personal  matter,"  he  said  with  much 
dignity  as  he  steadied  his  sobs.  "It  doesn't  concern 
anybody  but  me.  Please  don't  ask." 

The  tutor,  though  a  severe  man,  had  some  tact  and 
judgment ;  he  did  not  ask,  but  took  a  volume  from  one 
of  the  shelves  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

To   his   mother  it  was  convenient  and  agreeable  that 


THE  MASSAEENES.  367 

Brancepeth  was  out  of  London.  She  was  not  sensitive, 
but  still  it  had  been  disagreeable  to  her  to  see  him  there 
when  she  had  broken  with  him.  Ruptures  have  always 
this  unpleasantness,  that  people  notice  them. 

But  he  was  away  at  the  other  end  of  the  world,  where 
they  all  went  when  they  were  in  trouble,  and  where  they 
were  as  good  as  dead — somewhere  distant  and  barbarous 
— and  in  being  so  he  showed  more  tact  than  usual,  for 
with  that  loveliest  and  most  useful  of  all  qualities  he 
had  not  been  gifted.  When  she  thought  of  his  parting 
words  to  her  she  wished  a  lion  or  a  bison  to  make  an  end 
of  him. 

She  had  been  fond  of  him  certainly  a  good  many  years, 
but  in  women  of  her  disposition  a  wound  to  self-esteem  is 
the  death  of  affection.  Their  love  is  rooted  in  their  van- 
ity, and  you  cannot  offend  the  latter  without  killing  that 
which  springs  from  it.  At  times  she  wished  that  he  were 
there  that  she  could  make  him  murder  William  Massa- 
rene  ;  but  then  murder  was  unknown  in  her  world,  and  she 
could  not  have  told  him  what  made  her  wish  the  brute 
stuck  in  the  throat  like  a  Pyrennean  boar ;  and  so  things 
were  best  as  they  were. 

Poor  Harry ;  if  he  had  remained  in  England,  he  would 
only  have  been  an  additional  complication.  He  would 
have  seen,  as  this  horrible  brute  saw,  that  shame  and  dis- 
gust and  terror  were  ageing  her  fast  and  painfully. 


368  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ONE  afternoon  there  landed  from  an  American  liner,  at 
a  Liverpool  wharf,  a  tall,  bony,  haggard-looking  man, 
roughly  and  shabbily  dressed,  with  a  long,  tangled,  grey 
beard,  and  dark,  wide-open,  wistful  eyes ;  he  had  lost  his 
left  arm.  He  had  been  a  steerage  passenger  of  the  poor- 
est class,  and  had  been  moody  and  silent  on  the  voyage, 
giving  no  offence,  but  making  no  friends  or  acquaintances, 
and  saying  nothing  of  whence  he  came  or  of  whither  he 
was  bound ;  others  talked  of  the  little  village  they  were 
going  to  return  to,  of  the  old  parents  who  were  longing 
to  welcome  them,  of  the  graves  left  behind  them  or  the 
health  and  youth  lost  for  ever,  of  their  cheated  hopes 
and  broken  fortunes  or  their  modest  gains  and  longed- 
for  rest ;  but  he  said  nothing  whatever ;  he  had  interested 
no  one  as  he  had  offended  no  one  ;  no  one  noticed  or 
cared  where  he  went  when  he  landed. 

He  did  not  stop  to  eat  or  drink,  but  took  his  third-class 
ticket  for  London,  and  when  that  was  paid  had  only  two 
dollars  remaining  in  his  pocket  as  his  share  of  the  goods 
of  this  earth. 

He  was  wedged  up  between  rough  navvies  in  an  over- 
filled compartment,  and  had  a  slow,  tedious,  uncomfort- 
able journey  in  the  parliamentary  train.  But  he  did  not 
heed  these  minor  troubles ;  his  mind  was  engrossed  in  one 
overwhelming,  all-engrossing  thought  which  sat  on  his 
breast  and  gnawed  at  his  vitals  like  a  vampire. 

"  I  guess  I'll  find  him  soon,  even  in  that  great  city,  if 
he's  as  big  a  man  as  they  say,"  he  muttered  to  himself  as 
he  got  out  of  the  train  and  passed  into  the  mirk  and  noise 
and  hurry  of  the  London  streets. 

He  looked  at  his  little  bit  of  money,  hesitated,  walked 
through  several  streets,  then  entered  a  modest  eating- 
house,  which  proclaimed  its  calling  by  eggs  and  cheese  ard 
rounds  of  beef  ticketed  with  their  prices  in  the  window. 

He   ordered  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  fried  rasher  of  bacon, 


THE  MASSAEENES.  369 

and  when  he  had  drunken  and  eaten  these  paid  his  small 
reckoning  and  said  to  the  person  who  had  served  him : 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  a  rich  man  called  William 
Massarene,  who  came  over  from  the  States  some  years  ago, 
lives  in  this  city  of  yours  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't,"  said  the  woman.  "  There's  no  rich  folks 
in  these  here  parts.  But  next  door  at  the  wine  shop 
they've  got  a  '  Directory ' ;  I'll  go  and  get  it  for  you." 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned  with  the  huge  red  volume 
under  her  arm  and  laid  it  open  on  the  table. 

"  What  trade's  your  Ameriky  man  ?  "  she  asked. 

Airley  smiled  grimly. 

"  A  gentleman.     Money  makes  gentlefolks." 

"  Here  you  are,  then,"  she  said,  turning  over  the  leaves 
to  the  West-end  division  of  the  book.  "  You  can  look  out 
the  name  yourself." 

"  No,  I  can't,"  he  answered.     "I  can't  read." 

"  Lord,  man,  you  are  behind  the  time  o'  day !  "  said  the 
woman.  "  Well,  tell  me  the  name  agen  and  I'll  look  it 
out  for  you." 

He  repeated  it  slowly  three  times  over : 

"  Massarene — Massarene — William  Massarene." 

She  whirled  the  leaves  about  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  she  said  triumphantly  : 

"  Here  you  are  ! 

"  William  Massarene,  M.  P.;  Harrenden  House,  Glouces- 
ter Gate ;  Carlton  Club ;  Vale  Royal,  South  Woldshire 
Gottesdale  Grange,  Salop  ;  Blair  Airon,  Caithness,  N.  B. 

"That's  your  friend,  isn't  it?  My,  he  must  be  a 
swell !  " 

"  Which  of  all  them  places  is  in  this  city?  "  asked  the 
man. 

"  Why,  Carlton  Club  and  Gloucester  Gate,  of  course, 
you  gaby  !  " 

"  Where's  Gloucester  Gate  ?  "  said  Airley  heavily,  with- 
out resenting  her  epithet. 

She  told  him  how  to  get  to  it.  He  bade  her  good-day, 
murmured  a  hoarse  and  tardy  "  thank  ye,"  and  went  out 
of  her  doorway, 

24 


370  THE  MASSARENES. 

The  woman  looked  after  him  with  some  misgiving  in  her 
mind. 

"I  wish  I  hadn't  give  him  the  address,"  she  thought; 
"he  looks  like  an  anarchist,  he  do." 

She  was  tempted  for  the  moment  to  go  and  tell  the 
policeman  at  the  corner  to  keep  an  eye  on  this  stranger, 
but  there  were  no  serious  grounds  for  doing  so,  and  the 
police  were  not  beloved  by  those  who  work  for  their  living 
in  great  cities. 

So  Robert  Airley  went  on  his  way  unnoticed,  one  of 
the  many  ill-fed,  ill-clad,  gaunt,  and  weary-looking  men 
who  may  be  counted  by  tens  of  thousands  in  the  London 
streets,  and  who  sometimes  are  ill-bred  and  disrespectful 
enough  to  die  on  their  pavements.  He  was  not  an  anarchist, 
but  had  been  always  a  strictly  law-abiding  and  long-suffer- 
ing man,  and  was  by  nature  very  patient  and  tender- 
hearted. But  a  direful  purpose  had  entered  into  him  now, 
and  worked  havoc  in  his  gentle  breast,  and  changed  his 
very  nature.  He  walked  on  through  the  maze  of  many 
streets  which  divided  the  humble  eating-house  from  the 
precincts  of  Hyde  Park.  It  was  four  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  traffic  was  great  and  the  carriages  were  countless. 
But  he  scarcely  noticed  them  except  to  get  out  of  their 
way,  and  he  went  on  steadily  down  Piccadilty  with  its 
close-packed  throngs,  and  onward  past  Apsley  House  and 
the  French  Embassy,  until  he  approached  what  a  cabman 
standing  on  the  curbstone  told  him  were  Gloucester  Gate 
and  Harrenden  House.  When  he  saw  its  magnificent 
frontage,  its  gilded  gates,  its  stately  portals,  he  looked  up 
at  them  all,  and  a  bitter  fleeting  smile  crossed  his  face  for 
an  instant. 

Blasted  Blizzard  dwelt  there  ! 

He  rang  in  his  ignorance  at  the  grand  gateway's  bell. 
A  magnificent  functionary  bade  him  begone  without  even 
deigning  to  ask  why  he  had  come.  He  realized  that  those 
gilded  gates  did  not  open  to  the  like  of  him.  He  did  not 
insist  or  in  treat ;  he  shrank  away  like  a  starved  dog  which 
is  refused  admittance  and  dreads  a  kick,  and  went  into 
the  opposite  Park  and  mingled  with  the  pedestrians,  feel- 
ing giddy  for  a  moment  as  the  great  stream  of  horses  and 


THE  MAS8AEENE8.  37! 

carriages  and  persons  swept  past  him  in  the  pale  London 
sunset  light. 

He  was  a  poor,  unnoticeable,  humble  figure,  with  his 
battered  hat  pulled  down  to  shade  his  eyes  and  his  red 
bundle  under  his  one  arm.  Every  now  and  then  he  put 
his  hand  in  his  breast-pocket  to  make  sure  that  something 
which  he  carried  there  was  safe. 

He  went  onward  till  he  found  a  secluded  part  of  the 
Park  where  he  could  smoke  his  pipe  in  peace,  and  as  he 
smoked  could  meditate  how  best  to  do  that  which  he 
had  come  across  the  Atlantic  to  accomplish  :  wild  justice, 
of  which  the  fascination  held  him  fast  in  its  hypnotism. 

He  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  pocket  and  lighted  it,  where 
he  sat  on  a  bench  under  a  tree.  His  tobacco  was  strong 
and  vulgar  in  its  smell.  A  young  lady,  probably  a  gov- 
erness, who  sat  on  the  same  bench  with  two  well-dressed 
small  children,  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  nostrils  and 
looked  appealingly  at  a  constable  who  stood  near.  The 
policeman  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"We  can't  have  that  stench  'ere,  my  good  man.  Led- 
dies  don't  like  it !  " 

"  Aren't  this  a  public  park?  "  said  Airley. 

"  Don't  cheek  me,  or  I'll  run  you  in  as  if  you  was  a 
dawg,"  said  the  guardian  of  law  arid  order. 

Airley  put  out  his  pipe.  His  mind  was  filled  with  one 
memory,  one  intention,  one  desire ;  these  left  no  room  in 
it  for  resentment  at  petty  annoyances.  He  got  up  and 
moved  away  amongst  the  well-dressed  sauntering  people. 
"  Thanks,"  said  the  pretty  governess  who  sat  beside  the 
children,  with  a  smile  to  the  constable. 

Robert  Airley  walked  along  slowly  with  his  felt  hat 
drawn  down  over  his  eyes.  The  policeman  looked  after 
him  suspiciously. 

"  One  of  the  unemployed  ?  "  said  the  governess,  with 
another  smile. 

"  Calls  himself  so,  mum,  I  dessay,"  replied  the  police- 
man with  impatient  contempt.  "Them  wagabonds ought 
to  be  took  up  like  dawgs,"  he  added ;  he  had  just  beaten 
a  little  terrier  to  death  with  his  truncheon. 

Robert  Airley's  mind  was  filled  with  one  memory — 
that  of  the  day  on  which  he  had  first  showed  William 


372  THE  MASSARENES. 

Massarene  the  shining  bits  of  "  sparkles  "  at  the  roots  of 
the  long  grass.  "  It's  silver,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  had  said  to  the 
keeper  of  that  house  of  entertainment  where  Margaret 
Massarene  fried  sausages  for  the  rough  men  who  drank 
her  husband's  strong  waters  and  hot  brews. 

William  Massarene  had.  looked  at  the  shining  particles 
on  the  grass-roots  and  had  known  immediately  what  it 
was.  '•  'Tis  a  rubbishy  slate  there  is  in  these  parts,"  he 
said,  with  great  presence  of  mind.  "  Where  that  slate's 
found  ground's  always  poor  and  no  good  for  man  or 
beasts." 

Robert  Airley  had  believed  him  ;  he  was  a  young  man 
of  good  faith  and  weak  brain. 

In  the  winter  which  followed  on  that  conversation  all 
things  went  ill  with  him  :  his  cow  died,  his  two  pigs 
strayed  into  the  scrub  and  were  never  recovered,  his 
young  wife  was  pregnant  and  ill ;  the  violent  blasts  of 
those  parts  unroofed  his  shingle  house  and  terrified  her 
almost  out  of  her  wits.  He  took  her  down  into  the  town- 
ship of  Kerosene  and  timidly  asked  Massarene  to  lend  him 
a  little  money  on  his  ground. 

"  I  won't  lend  on  it,"  said  Massarene.  "  I  told  you  'tis 
all  shale  and  slate.  I'll  buy  it  for  thirty  dollars.  Not  a 
cent  more  nor  less.  The  slate's  the  only  good  thing  on  it, 
and  that  must  be  quarried,  and  you  haven't  means  to 
quarry." 

Robert  Airley  knew  that  this  was  the  truth  as  regarded 
his  fortunes,  he  had  not  a  cent  in  his  pocket ;  he  had 
nothing  to  get  food  or  lodging;  his  young  wife  in  her 
first  labor  pains  was  moaning  that  she  would  never  go 
back  to  that  wilderness.  He  was  so  tormented  and  wor- 
ried and  out  of  heart  that  he  closed  with  Massarene's  offer 
and  sold  his  claim  to  the  bit  of  land  out  and  out,  and  set- 
tled in  the  township  as  a  mechanic,  which  he  had  been  at 
home. 

Three  years  later  he  heard  that  mining  had  been  be- 
gun on  his  old  claim  and  that  a  fine  vein  of  tin  had  been 
found. 

"  You  cheated  me,"  he  said  to  William  Massarene. 

"Not  I,"  said  the  fortunate  speculator.  "I  bought 
your  waste  land  on  spec. ;  I've  a  right  to  what  I  find 


THE  HASSARENE8.  373 

there.  And,"  he  added,  with  his  blackest  scowl,  stepping 
close  to  Airley's  ear,  "  if  you  dare  say  a  word  o'  that  sort 
ever  again  in  all  your  years,  I'll  put  two  bullets  in  your 
numskull  of  a  noddle  sure  as  my  name's  Massarene.  I 
aren't  a  good  un  to  rouse." 

Robert  Aiiiey  was  not  a  coward,  but  he  was  miserably  ^ 
poor,  and  poverty  is  apt  to  be  cowardice  when  it  is  not  \ 
desperation. 

He  held  his  tongue  while  the  ore  of  the  Penamunic 
mine  was  being  brought  to  the  surface.  He  loved  his 
young  wife,  who  was  miserable  away  from  the  friendly 
faces  and  merry  little  shops  of  her  native  town,  and  he 
adored  the  rosy-cheeked,  bright-eyed,  noisy  boy  to  whom 
she  had  given  birth ;  life  was  sweet  to  him  despite  his 
poverty;  he  did  not  dare  provoke  William  Massarene,  who 
was  already  lord  of  Kerosene  township  and  of  much  else 
besides.  It  was  bitter  to  him  to  think  that  had  he  only 
possessed  enough  wit  to  know  what  that  shining  dust  on 
the  grass-roots  had  meant  he  would  have  been  a  rich  and 
fortunate  man.  But  he  could  not  retrieve  his  foolish  un- 
happy error ;  and  when  William  Massarene  made  the 
Main  Trunk  Line  from  Kerosene  by  way  of  Issouri  to 
Chicago,  over  four  thousand  miles  of  swamp  and  scrub, 
he  meekly  accepted  the  place  of  platelayer  on  the  new 
railway  which  was  offered  him  at  the  great  man's  instiga- 
tion. 

"  You  see  I  don't  forget  old  friends,"  said  Massarene 
with  a  cynical  grin. 

But  for  his  wife  and  his  little  boy  at  home  dependent  on 
himself  for  their  bread,  Robert  Airley  would  have  killed 
him  then  and  there. 

From  that  da}^  he  had  never  been  able  to  get  away  from 
that  vile  city  of  Kerosene,  which  spread  and  spread  in  its 
brick  and  mortar  hideousness  between  him  and  the 
country,  which  multiplied  its  churches  and  its  counting- 
houses,  which  had  its  gambling  hells  next  door  to  its 
Methodist  chapels,  which  was  black  and  stinking  and 
smoke-befouled,  and  filled  all  day  and  all  night  with  the 
oaths  of  men  and  the  cries  of  beasts,  the  throbbing  of 
engines,  the  shrieking  of  steam,  the  bleating  of  sheep, 
the  screaming  of  women,  the  lowing  of  tortured  oxen,  the 


374  THE  MASSARENES. 

howling  of  kidnapped  dogs — that  thrice-accursed  cancer 
on  the  once  fair  breast  of  the  dear  earth ! 

What  he  would  have  given  that  he  had  never  pulled  up 
that  grass  with  those  shining  atoms  in  the  earth  at  its 
roots,  but  had  lived,  ever  so  hardly,  on  his  own  ground, 
at  Periamunic,  under  the  rough  winds  and  the  torrid 
suns  and  the  driving  snows,  toiling  like  the  oxen,  hunger- 
ing like  the  swine,  chased  by  forest  fires,  pursued  by  roll- 
ing floods,  but  free  at  least  in  the  untainted  air,  and  away 
from  that  infernal  curse  which  men  dare  to  call  civiliza- 
tion. 

Absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts,  he  walked  on  now  along 
the  footpath  which  runs  parallel  with  the  Ladies'  Mile ; 
jostling  the  smart  people  he  passed,  who  drew  away  from 
his  contact  as  though  he  had  been  a  leper.  He  was  won- 
dering if  he  could  trust  his  nerve,  and  rely  on  his  hand, 
to  do  what  he  had  come  to  do. 

William  Massarene  was  at  that  moment  in  the  lobby 
of  the  House  of  Commons  conversing  with  the  Conserva- 
tive Whip. 

He  was  beginning  to  be  appreciated  by  the  Unionist, 
and  he  had  always  been  feared.  Of  course  they  still 
ridiculed  him  to  themselves  for  his  accent,  his  ambitions, 
his  antecedents,  and  his  snobbism,  but  they  knew  that  he 
was  valuable  to  them,  and  he  had  a  hard  sound  grip  of 
certain  practical  questions  which  made  members,  and 
ministers  too,  listen  when  he  was  on  his  legs.  In  public 
life  of  any  kind  he  showed  always  a  certain  rude  power 
in  him  which  enabled  him  to  hold  his  own  with  the  men 
who  surrounded  him,  whoever  they  might  be. 

He  was  grievous  and  terrible  to  the  patricians  of  the 
Party,  but  the  patricians  have  learned  in  the  last  twenty 
years  that  they  must  pocket  their  pride  to  keep  their 
heads  above  water;  politically  and  socially,  Tory  democ- 
racy has  to  lie  down  with  strange  bed -fellows. 

They  knew,  too,  very  well  that  he  would  exact  his  full 
price,  that  they  would  have  to  give  him  office  in  some 
small  way  at  some  future  time,  that  they  would  have  to 
put  him  on  the  next  batch  of  new  baronets,  and  that 
eventually  he  would  have  to  be  hoisted  into  the  Lords  in 
company  with  the  brewers  and  iron-masters,  and  wool- 


Tllfi  MA8SARENE8.  375 

staplers  and  chemists,  who  now  adorn  the  Upper  Cham- 
ber. 

They  knew  that  if  they  did  not  please  him  to  the  full- 
est measure  of  his  demands,  he  would  rat  without  scruple  ; 
and  there  are  so  many  questions  in  this  immediate  day 
about  which  it  is  so  easy  for  a  man  to  have  a  sudden 
awakening  of  conscience  if  he  is  not  obtaining  all  he 
wants  in  the  shape  he  wishes.  They  knew  that,  and  they 
hated  the  thought  of  it,  but  they  could  not  afford  to 
alienate  and  offend  him.  He  had  not  only  money,  he  had 
a  sledge-hammer  power  in  him,  and  in  a  marvellously 
short  time  had  got  his  grasp  on  the  attention  of  the 
House.  He  was  a  common  man,  a  vulgar  man,  an  uned- 
ucated man  ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  great  ability  and  abso- 
lute unscrupulousness  such  as  no  government  or  opposi- 
tion can  afford  in  these  days  to  despise. 

All  the  ambitions  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
the  Northwest  were  certain  of  fruition  if  he  lived. 

Of  death  he  had  no  fear ;  his  physician  told  him  that 
his  heart  was  sound,  his  lungs  were  sound,  and  that  he 
had  no  tendency  to  gout  or  any  other  malady. 

At  eight  o'clock  as  he  drove  home  to  dinner  he  felt  very 
content  with  himself  as  he  rested  his  short  squab  figure 
and  massive  shoulders  against  the  soft  cushions  of  his 
brougham.  The  Whip  had  consulted  him,  the  Premier 
had  complimented  him  ;  the  great  person  who  headed  a 
committee  of  which  he  was  a  member  had  thanked  him 
for  his  industry  and  assistance.  On  the  whole,  he  was 
on  excellent  terms  with  himself.  He  had  done  what  he 
had  come  home  to  do.  He  had  made  himself  a  power  in 
the  land.  Even  with  that  merciless  rodent  who  had  eaten 
so  far  into  his  fortune  he  was  even  now ;  he  was  her 
master  now.  She  was  horribly,  cruelly,  unspeakably 
afraid  of  him.  He  kept  her  nose  to  the  grindstone,  in  his 
own  phraseology,  mercilessly  and  with  brutal  relish.  He 
paid  her  off  for  ever}^  one  of  her  insults,  for  every  one  of  her 
jests,  for  every  one  of  the  moments  in  which  she  had 
called  him  Billy.  He  had  no  feeling  for  her  left  except 
delight  in  her  humiliation,  he  gloried  in  her  shrinking 
hatred  of  him,  in  her  abject  fear.  If  she  wanted  to  marry 
again — ah! — he  chuckled  in  his  grimmest  mirth  when  he 


376  TEE  MASSARENES. 

thought  of  the  pull-up  he  would  give  to  this  throughbred 
mare  if  she  tried  to  cut  any  capers.  She  should  die  in  a 
garret  abroad,  and  whistle  for  her  fine  friends  and  her 
lovers  in  vain  ! 

Yes,  all  went  well  with  him.  Everybody  was  afraid  of 
him  all  round.  It  was  the  triumph  which  he  had  always 
craved.  They  might  hate  him  as  much  as  they  liked 
provided  only  they  feared  him,  and  let  him  go  step  by 
step,  step  by  step,  over  their  silly  heads  up  his  golden 
ladder. 

"  I  said  I'd  do  it  and  I've  done  it,"  he  said  to  himself, 
with  his  hands  clasped  on  his  broad  belly  and  his  long 
tight  lips  puffed  out  with  a  smile  of  content. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  that  moment  before  the  open 
gates;  he  seldom  drove  through  the  gates  when  alone, 
for  he  felt  some  unacknowledged  fear  of  his  carriage- 
horses  when  driven  by  such  butter-fingered  fools  as  he 
considered  English  coachmen  to  be,  and  he  preferred  to 
alight  in  the  street.  The  white  brilliancy  of  the  electric 
lamps  of  the  courtyard  was  streaming  out  into  the  dusky 
misty  night. 

He  got  out  of  the  brougham  slowly,  for  he  was  a  heavy 
man,  his  figure  plainly  visible  in  the  bright  light  from  the 
open  portals,  his  footman  obsequiously  aiding  him,  and 
the  wide  open  entrance  of  the  great  house  glowing  with 
light  in  front  of  him.  A  dark  figure  unperceived  came 
out  of  the  shadow  and  drew  close  to  him  ;  there  was  a 
flash,  a  report,  and  the  joys  and  ambitions  of  William 
Massarene  were  ended  for  ever  and  aye. 

He  fell  forward  on  the  marble  steps  of  his  great  man- 
sion, stone  dead,  with  a  bullet  through  his  heart. 

"  'Tis  too  good  for  him,  the  brute  !  Too  short  and  too 
sweet !  "  thought  Robert  Airley  as  he  turned  away,  un- 
seen by  anyone,  and  mingled  with  the  traffic  behind  the 
dead  man's  house. 

The  vengeance  he  had  taken  seemed  to  him  a  poor 
thing  after  all. 


TH&  MASSABENES.  577 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

KATHEKJNE  MASSAKENE  was  coming  down  the  stair- 
case under  the  smiling  gaze  of  Clodion's  falconer,  dressed 
for  the  evening  and  about  to  dine  out,  when  she  heard  the 
shot,  muffled  as  it  was  by  the  sounds  of  the  traffic;  in 
another  moment  she  heard  a  great  outcry  arid  understood 
that  something  unusual  must  have  taken  place;  she  de- 
scended the  stairs  more  quickly,  and  was  crossing  the  hall 
when  the  inner  and  outer  doors  were  thrown  open,  and 
the  servants  within  hurried  up  to  her. 

"Don't  go,  madam  !     Don't  look!  " 

"What  has  happened?"  she  said  to  them.  "An  acci- 
dent? To  whom?  Tell  me  at  once." 

"Mr.  Massarene's  murdered,  madam,"  said  a  young  foot- 
man, who  had  hated  his  employer  and  relished  the  telling 
of  the  tale.  "Don't  look,  madam;  they're  bringing  him 
in." 

She  put  them  aside  and  went  to  the  open  doors.  There 
she  met  the  body  of  her  father,  which  was  carried  across 
the  threshold  by  four  men,  his  arms  hanging  down,  his 
head  leaning  toward  one  shoulder;  behind,  in  the  bright 
electric  light,  were  curious  lookers-on,  thrust  back  by  con- 
stables. And  above,  on  the  head  of  the  staircase,  the  fal- 
coner of  Clodion  looked  down  and  smiled  at  the  vanity  of 
human  ambitions. 

Throughout  fashionable  London  people  were  dressing 
for  dinner,  or  were  sitting  at  dinner-tables,  or  were  driving 
to  dinner-parties,  when  the  strange  rumor  ran  through  the 
streets  and  spread  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  was  whispered 
in  ghostly  speed  through  the  telephonic  tubes  of  club- 
houses, that  William  Massarene  had  been  shot  as  he  had 
alighted  from  his  carriage  at  the  gate  of  Harrenden 
House. 

"  There  is  a  God  above  us ! "  said  Lord  Greatrex  to  his 
nephew. 

To  him  it  was  an  immense  relief;  it  was  as  though  an 
octopus  had  loosed  its  tentacles. 


378  THE  MASSAKENES. 

But  as  the  news  ran  through  the  town,  and  was  received 
at  first  with  incredulity  and  then  with  consternation,  a 
keen  anxiety  succeeded  to  astonishment  in  the  breasts  of 
many — so  many  of  these  great  people  owed  him  money  ! 

He  was  assassinated  at  eight  of  the  clock.  By  ten  in 
the  evening  newspapers  were  issued  with  the  startling  in- 
telligence printed  in  large  type.  The  journals  sold  by 
millions;  people  snatched  them  from  each  others  hands 
and  read  them  in  the  streets,  in  the  cabs  and  carriages, 
under  the  noses  of  the  horses,  in  the  lobby  and  on  the  ter- 
race of  St.  Stephen's. 

He  had  what  answers  in  modern  cities  to  the  Triumph 
of  the  Romans.  The  town  talked  solely  of  his  end. 

That  evening  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  was  dining 
en  intime  with  a  familiar  friend  at  a  house  in  Cadogan 
Square.  They  were  all  congenial  and  pleasant  acquaint- 
ances at  the  little  banquet,  and  after  it  they  sat  down  to 
play  poker,  a  game  which  makes  up  in  excitement  what  it 
lacks  in  intellectuality. 

Cadogan  Square  is  somewhat  distant  from  those  central 
haunts  where  news  first  circulates,  and  the  poker-players 
were  uninterrupted  by  the  intelligence  of  the  tragedy 
which  was  being  discussed  all  around  the  Parliament 
House  and  in  the  great  clubs  of  the  West.  They  neither 
heard  it  by  telephone,  or  by  the  shouting  of  newsboys, 
and  when  at  midnight  a  young  nephew  of  the  hostess,  who 
was  also  a  member  of  the  Conservative  party,  came  into 
the  drawing-room  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  tidings  he 
had  brought  with  him  had  not  been  forestalled. 

"  Oh,  I  say ! "  he  cried,  as  he  came  up  behind  his  aunt's 
chair.  "Oh,  I  say!  Such  a  piece  of  news!  Who  do  you 
think  has  been  shot?" 

The  players  went  on  with  their  game  unheeding. 

"Don't  bother,  Dick!"  said  the  lady  of  the  house. 
"Who  cares  who's  shot?" 

"Somebody  in  Ireland,  of  course,"  said  another  lady, 
with  impatience,  "Somebody  at  the  Castle?" 

"Oh,  but  I  say,  Duchess,"  said  the  young  man,  staring 
at  her  from  behind  his  aunt's  chair,  which  was  opposite  to 
hers,  "it's  your  friend,  you  know.  The  fellow  that  bought 
Roxhall's  place.  The  member  for  South  Woldshire,  that 


THE  MASSARENES.  379 

you  are  so  fond  of.  He's  been  shot  dead  as  he  got  out  of 
his  brougham.  It  was  telephoned  to  the  House  as  we 
were  all  coming  away  for  dinner." 

Mouse  was  standing  up  to  draw  a  card;  she  dropped 
down  on  her  chair  as  if  she  too  had  been  shot;  her  knees 
shook  under  her,  she  gasped  for  breath.  The  shock  was 
one  of  joy,  not  of  grief ;  but  it  was  so  violent  that  it  seemed 
to  take  her  very  life  away  in  the  immense  relief. 

"Dear  me,  I'm  sorry,"  murmured  the  young  man,  greatly 
surprised.  "Had  no  idea  you  cottoned  to  the  cad  so 
much." 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  her. 

"Shot?  When?  Where?  Who  shot  him?"  she  said, 
in  quick  short  gasps  of  broken  speech. 

No  one  had  ever  seen  her  strongly  moved  before. 

"  Who,  nobody  knows.  But  he  was  shot  dead  as  a  door- 
nail at  his  own  gate  this  evening." 

"How  deeply  she  must  be  in  debt  to  him ! "  thought  her 
hostess,  while  she  laughed  and  scolded  her  nephew  for 
coming  to  disturb  them  with  such  eerie  tales. 

Mouse  recovered  herself  in  a  few  moments,  and  as  soon 
as  she  could  steady  her  voice  asked  again,  as  the  others 
were  asking,  "Who  told  you?  Are  you  £ure?" 

The  young  man  answered,  rather  sulkily,  that  he  was 
quite  sure ;  everybody  was  talking  of  it  in  the  House ;  it 
was  attributed  to  the  anarchists. 

"They  are  good  for  something,  then,"  said  the  hostess. 

"Don't,"  said  Mouse,  conscious  that  she  must  account 
for  the  emotion  she  had  shown.  "  Please  don't,  Pussie. 
He  was  a  rough,  common,  ridiculous  man,  but  he  was  very 
kind  in  his  way,  really  kind,  to  poor  Cocky  and  to  me." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  what  a  liar  you  are  ! "  thought  her  friend. 

"Are  you  sure  he  is  dead?"  Mouse  asked  of  the  young 
member  again.  "  He  might  be  only  wounded,  and  not 
dead,  you  know." 

"  Dead  as  a  door-nail,"  answered  the  youthful  legislator, 
resenting  the  doubt  thrown  on  his  news.  "He  was  shot 
through  the  heart  from  behind.  He  died  before  they 
could  carry  him  into  the  house." 

Mouse  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  contentment  which  sounded 
like  one  of  regret. 


380  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"Who  did  it?" 

"They  don't  know.     Nobody  saw  how  it  was  done." 

"He  must  have  had  numbers  of  enemies." 

"Oh,  no  doubt." 

"Who  will  have  all  his  money?"  asked  the  lady  of  the 
house. 

"His  daughter,  of  course,"  said  her  nephew.  "It  will 
be  a  lucky  dog  who  marries  her." 

"Try  and  be  that  dog,"  said  the  lady.  "And  now  don't 
you  think  we've  chanted  Mr.  Massarene's  requiem  long 
enough?  He  wasn't  an  attractive  person.  Let  us  play 
again." 

But  her  guests  did  not  accept  her  invitation;  they  were 
all  more  or  less  excited  by  the  news.  Who  could  tell 
what  scandals  might  not  come  to  the  surface  when  the 
dead  man's  papers  were  unsealed  ?  Meantime  they  made 
as  much  scandal  as  they  could  themselves — raking  up  old 
stories,  computing  how  much  this,  that,  or  the  other  owed 
him,  whose  debts  of  honor  he  had  paid,  and  what  person- 
ages, crowned  and  uncrowned,  were  in  his  hands. 

"  What  tremendous  sport  his  daughter  will  have,"  said 
one  of  the  ladies.  "  If  I  were  she  I  should  bring  all  the 
bigwigs  into  court  for  principal  and  interest.  But  she 
doesn't  look  as  if  she  liked  fun." 

Mouse  was  on  thorns  as  she  listened.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  life  people  seemed  to  her  odiously  heartless.  This 
event  mattered  so  enormously  to  her  that  she  wondered 
the  earth  did  not  stand  still.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  felt  the  chill  of  that  indifference  in  others  which  is  at 
times  so  hard  to  bear.  Her  hostess,  who  was  one  of  the 
many  pretty  women  who  kissed  and  caressed  her,  and 
hated  her,  watched  her  with  suspicious  amusement.  "I 
never  saw  Sourisette  so  upset  in  her  life,"  she  thought. 
"Did  the  man  pay  her  an  annuity  of  twenty  thousand  a 
year  which  dies  with  him?" 

It  appeared  to  her  that  nothing  less  than  some  great 
pecuniary  loss  could  possibly  thus  affect  the  nerves  of  her 
friend. 

Mouse  went  away  from  the  card-party  early. 

"  One  would  think  the  dead  cad  had  held  a  lot  of  her 
*  bad  paper,' "  said  the  lady  with  a  cruel  little  laugh,  as 


MASSARENES.  381 

she  returned  from  embracing  her  guest  affectionately  on 
the  head  of  the  staircase. 

"  I  dare  say  he  did,"  answered  her  nephew.  "  I  wonder 
what  he'll  cut  up  for  ?  Twelve  million  sterling,  they  say, 
not  counting  the  house  and  the  estates." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  his  aunt.  "  However 
rich  he  might  be  when  he  came  over,  Mouse  has  had  the 
running  of  him,  you  know,  ever  since  !  " 

The  friend  of  whom  she  spoke  thus  kindly,  as  she  drove 
the  distance  which  separated  Cadogan  Square  from  Port- 
man  Square,  heard  the  shouting  of  the  newspaper  vendors  : 
"  Murder  of  Mr.  Massarene  !  Assassination  of  the  Member 
for  South  Woldshire !  Awful  crime  by  anarchists  at 
Gloucester  Gate  I  Member  of  Parliament  shot  dead ! 
Millionaire  murdered  on  his  own  doorstep!  Murder! 
Murder  I  Murder  !  " 

There  was  still  immense  excitement  in  the  streets.  The 
papers  were  being  sold  as  fast  as  they  could  be  supplied. 
Men  of  all  classes  stopped  under  street  lamps  or  before 
the  blaze  of  shop  windows  to  read  the  news.  William 
Massarene  had  the  apotheosis  which  he  would  have  desired. 
All  London  was  in  agitation  at  the  news  of  his  death. 
There  could  scarcely  have  been  more  interest  displayed  if 
a  German  army  had  landed  at  Southsea  or  a  French  flo- 
tilla bombarded  Dover.  The  crime  was  a  sensational  one  ; 
the  mystery  enshrouding  it  added  to  its  tragedy ;  and  the 
victim  had  that  power  over  the  modern  mind  which  only 
capitalists  now  hold. 

The  horror  which  was  in  the  atmosphere  was  in  herself, 
and  yet  what  an  ecstasy  of  relief  came  with  it ! 

When  she  reached  her  sister's  house  she  hurried  up  the 
stairs  and  shut  herself  in  her  bedchamber,  dismissing  her 
maid  for  the  moment.  She  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
in  breathless  excitation.  She  longed,  oh  !  how  she  longed, 
to  see  the  brute  lying  dead  !  How  she  would  have  liked 
to  take  a  knife  and  cut  and  slash  the  lifeless  body,  and 
box  the  deaf  ears,  and  strike  the  soundless  rnouth.  She 
understood  how  people  in  revolution  had  sated  their 
hatred  in  the  mutilation  and  the  outrage  of  dead  men  and 
women.  She  would  have  liked  to  tear  his  corpse  limb 
from  limb  and  fling  his  flesh  to  starving  hounds. 


582  THE  MASSAKENES. 

Who  was  the  assassin  ?  How  she  would  have  rewarded 
him  had  it  been  in  her  power  for  that  straight,  sure, 
deadly  shot !  She  would  have  had  him  fed  from  gold  and 
silver,  and  clad  in  purple  and  fine  linen  for  all  the  rest  of 
his  days.  She  would  have  kissed  the  barrel  of  the  revolver 
that  had  done  the  deed,  she  would  have  cradled  the 
weapon  between  her  white  breasts,  like  a  sucking  child ! 

No  one,  she  thought,  had  ever  hated  another  human 
being  as  she  had  hated  William  Massarene. 

And  who  could  tell  whether  she  was  wholly  freed  from 
him  by  his  death  ? 

Was  it  such  entire  release  as  she  had  thought  ? 

She  shuddered  as  she  remembered  that  he  had  never 
given  her  back  her  own  receipt  about  Beaumont,  or  Beau- 
mont's to  him.  He  had  kept  them  no  doubt  locked  in  his 
iron  safe  as  witnesses  against  her.  There,  of  course,  his 
lawyers  or  executors  would  find  them,  and  they  would 
pass  into  his  daughter's  possession  with  all  other  docu- 
ments eventually. 

There  was,  possibly,  the  hope  that  he  might  have  pro- 
vided for  their  transmission  to  herself,  but  she  did  not 
think  so ;  it  would  not  be  in  keeping  with  his  brutality 
«ind  his  greed  to  have  provided  for  her  safety  after  his 
decease.  If  he  had  not  left  those  signatures  to  herself 
they  would  be  inevitably  discovered  by  his  men  of  busi- 
ness, and  be  made  public  as  a  part  of  monies  due  to  him. 
All  the  unutterable  torment  which  she  had  sold  herself  to 
the  Minotaur  to  escape  would  again  be  her  portion.  She 
would  be  at  Katherine  Massarene's  mercy ! 

For  she  had  no  doubt  that  his  daughter  would  inherit 
the  whole  of  his  wealth,  and  with  his  wealth  his  hold  over 
his  debtors.  She  knew  little  or  nothing  of  business,  but 
she  knew  that  she,  like  all  the  princes  and  lords  who  had 
been  his  debtors,  would  see  her  financial  relations  with 
him  exposed  to  the  light  of  day ;  unless  he  had  had  mercy 
enough  in  him  to  provide  for  her  safety,  which  was  not 
probable. 

She  passed  the  hours  miserably,  though  having  sum- 
moned her  women  she  had  taken  her  bath  and  had  tried 
to  sleep. 

She  could  get  no  rest  even  from  chloral.     When  some 


THE  MASSARENES.  383 

semi-unconsciousness  came  over  her  she  saw  in  her  dreams 
the  ghost  of  Massarene  with  a  smile  upon  his  face.  "Here 
I  am  again!''  his  shade  said,  like  a  clown  in  a  pantomime. 
"  Here  I  am  again,  my  pretty  one  !  " — and  he  laid  his  icy 
grip  on  her  and  grinned  at  her  with  fleshless  skeleton 
jaws. 

Early  in  the  morning  she  was  awakened  from  a  late  and 
heavy  slumber  by  the  cries  of  the  newspaper  boys  passing 
down  the  street  and  shouting,  as  their  precursors  had  done 
on  the  previous  evening:  " Murder  of  a  Member  of  Par- 
liament !  Assassination  by  an  Anarchist !  Awful  crime 
at  the  gates  of  Harrenden  House  !  " 

Then  it  was  true,  and  not  a  nightmare,  which  the  day 
could  dissipate ! 

She  felt  torn  in  two  between  relief  and  apprehension ; 
with  her  breakfast  they  brought  her  the  morning  papers, 
which  announced  the  ghastly  event  in  large  capital  letters. 
There  were  no  details  given  because  there  were  none  to 

§ive;  the  papers  said  that  there  was  great  activity  at 
cotland  Yard,  but  at  present  nothing  had  transpired  to 
account  for  the  crime. 

Later  in  the  day  she  drove  to  Harrenden  House  and 
left  two  cards  for  the  widow  and  the  daughter. 

On  that  for  Margaret  Massarene  she  had  written : 

"My  whole  heart  is  with  you.  So  shocked  and  grieved 
for  the  loss  of  my  good  friend." 

"That's  very  sweet  of  her! "  said  Mrs.  Massarene  with 
tremulous  lips  and  red  eyelids. 

Katharine  Massarene  took  the  cards  and  tore  them  in 
two. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that,  Kathleen  ?  "  said  her  mother  be- 
tween her  sobs.  "  Your  poor  dear  father  was  always  so 
good  to  her.  'Tis  only  pretty  of  her  to  sorrow  for  him." 

Katherine  did  not  reply. 

The  man  who  killed  him  was  not  discovered.  No  one 
had  noticed  the  lean  bent  dark  figure  which  had  mingled 
with  the  crowd  behind  Harrenden  House. 

"  But,  oh !  for  certain  sure  'twas  one  of  the  many  as  he 
wronged,"  said  his  wife,  with  the  tears  running  down  her 
pale  cheeks.  "I  allus  thought,  though  I  didn't  dare  to 
say  so,  that  this  was  how  your  father  would  end  some  day, 


384  THE  MASSARENES. 

my  dear.  He  always  thought  as  he  was  God  Almighty, 
did  your  poor  father,  my  dear,  and  he  never  gave  a  back 
glance,  as  't  were,  to  the  tens  and  hundreds  and  thousands 
as  he'd  ruined." 

Katherine  Massarene,  very  calm,  veiy  grave,  listened 
and  did  not  dissent.  "What  he  might  have  done!"  she 
murmured.  "Oh,  what  he  might  have  done  ! — how  mach 
good,  how  much  kindness  ! — what  blessings  might  have 
gone  with  him  to  his  grave  !  " 

She  had  felt  a  great  shock,  a  great  horror,  at  the  fate  of 
her  father,  but  she  could  not  feel  sorrow,  such  as  the  af- 
fections feel  at  death.  It  was  unspeakably  terrible  that 
he  should  have  died  like  this,  without  a  moment  of  prep- 
aration, without  a  single  word  or  glance  to  reconcile  him 
with  the  humanity  which  he  had  outraged,  but  this  was 
all  that  she  could  feel.  Between  her  and  her  father  there 
had  always  been  in  life  an  impassable  gulf ;  death  could 
not  bridge  that  gulf. 

"  Am  I  made  of  stone  ?  "  she  said  to  herself  in  remorse  ; 
but  it  was  of  no  use ;  she  felt  horror,  but  sorrow  she  could 
not  feel.  She  was  too  sincere  to  pretend  it  to  herself  or 
others.  She  seemed  to  her  mother,  to  the  household,  to 
the  official  persons  who  came  in  contact  with  her,  un- 
naturally chill  and  silent ;  they  thought  it  the  coldness  of 
indifference. 

The  grief  of  Margaret  Massarene  was  violent  and  gen- 
uine, but  its  safety-valve  was  in  its  hysterical  garrulity. 
She  suffered  extremely,  for  she  had  loved  her  husband  de- 
spite his  brutality,  and  had  honored  him  despite  all  his 
faults.  She  had  always  believed  in  him  with  a  pathetic 
devotion  which  no  ill-treatment  changed. 

"  He  was  a  great  man,  was  William,"  she  said  again  and 
again  between  her  convulsive  sobs,  as  she  sat  by  the  bed 
on  which  his  body  had  been  laid  after  the  autopsy.  "He 
was  a  great  man,  and  God  knows  what  heights  he  wouldn't 
have  riz  to  if  he'd  lived  a  few  years  longer.  For  he'd 
took  the  measure  of  'em  all.  He  said  he'd  die  a  peer,  and 
he  would  have  died  a  peer  if  this  cruel  bullet  hadn't  cut 
him  down  like  a  bison  on  the  plains.  Lord,  to  think  of  all 
he  had  gone  through  by  flood  and  by  fire,  in  storm  and  in 
quarrel,  by  the  hand  of  God  and  by  the  hand  of  man ;  and 


THE  MASSARENES.  385 

when  lie  comes  here  to  enjoy  his  own  and  get  his  just  re- 
ward, he  is  struck  just  like  any  poor  Texan  steer  pithed  in 
the  slaughter  place  !  The  ways  o'  the  Almighty  are  past 
finding  out  indeed." 

Then  she  took  his  dead  hand  between  both  her  own  and 
held  it  tenderly  and  kissed  it. 

His  princes  and  his  lords,  his  fine  ladies  and  fair 
favorites,  were  all  far  away  from  him  now ;  he  was  all  her 
own  in  his  dead  loneliness  ;  her  own  man  as  he  had  been 
when  they  had  walked  across  the  green  fields  of  Kilrathy 
011  their  marriage -day,  with  all  their  worldly  goods  put 
up  in  a  bundle  hung  upon  a  stick.  In  her  grief  and  her 
despair  there  was  a  thrill  of  jealous  joy ;  he  was  once 
again  all  her  own  as  he  had  been  on  that  soft  wet  mid- 
summer morning  when  they  had  walked  through  the 
grass  man  and  wife. 

m 


THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  WE'LL  give  him  the  grandest  buryin'  that  money  can 
get,"  she  said  to  her  daughter. 

Katherine  could  not  oppose  her  wishes,  alien  as  they 
were  to  her  own  tastes  and  desires.  She  felt  that  the 
wish  would  have  been  also  her  father's.  The  tragic  sud- 
denness of  his  end  had  startled  and  impressed  London 
society  ;  the  evidences  of  sympathy  and  condolence  were 
innumerable  and  seemed  sincere  ;  very  many  were  ex- 
tremely grieved  that  the  hospitalities  of  Harrenden  House 
had  ceased  in  the  height  of  the  season  ;  and  the  more 
personal  and  secret  anxieties  in  those  who  were  his 
debtors  found  natural  expression  in  delicate  attentions 
•which  took  much  of  the  sting  of  her  bereavement  out  of 
his  wife's  heart.  A  very  great  personage  even  called 
himself,  and  pressed  her  hand,  and  murmured  his  regret. 

"  You  can't  say  as  your  father  ain't  honored  in  his 
end,"  she  said  reproachfully  to  her  daughter. 

Katherine  was  silent.  Everything  that  passed  was 
sickeningly,  odiously,  intolerably  offensive  to  her.  The 
week  which  followed  on  his  death,  during  which  he  was, 
as  it  were,  lying  in  state,  seemed  to  her  as  though  it  were 
ten  years  in  length.  When  it  came  to  a  close,  the  body 
in  its  bier  (a  triple  coffin  of  lead  and  oak  and  silver)  was 
taken  by  rail  from  London  into  the  southern  portion  of 
the  county  which  he  had  represented,  and  solemnly  de- 
posited at  the  station  of  that  rural  capital  town  where  he 
had  once  written  down  the  sum  of  his  subscriptions  to 
the  church  and  to  "the  dogs."  A  very  imposing  gather- 
ing of  county  notables  and  borough  dignitaries,  of  noble- 
men and  gentlemen  and  municipal  councilmen  and  cleri- 
cal luminaries,  were  all  assembled  at  the  station  ready  to 
do  him  the  last  honors  in  their  power,  and  sincerely 
affected  by  his  loss,  for  the  sad  and  general  conviction 
was  that,  without  his  patronage  as  a  fulcrum,  the  short- 
route  railway  would  never  now  be  made. 


THE  MASSARENES.  387 

The  blinds  were  drawn  down  in  the  houses  of  his  sup- 
porters, and  the  bells  of  the  churches  tolled  mournfully 
as  the  dismal  procession  wended  on  its  way  through  the 
old-fashioned  streets.  There  were  eight  black  horses  har- 
nessed to  the  hearse  with  black  plumes  at  their  ears  and  long 
black  velvet  housings,  and  equerries  in  black  walking  at 
their  heads,  and  carriages  innumerable  followed  in  slow 
and  stately  measure  the  leading  equipages  of  the  Sheriff, 
the  Lord-Lieutenant,  and  the  Mayor,  who  was  a  Vis- 
count. 

"A  prince  couldn't  be  buried  more  beautiful,"  mur- 
mured his  widow,  as  she  followed  in  a  mourning-carriage 
with  four  black  horses.  She  derived  a  strange  consola- 
tion from  this  pageantry  ;  it  made  her  feel  as  if  she  were 
doing  all  she  could  for  his  soul,  and  as  if  she  were  keep- 
ing her  marriage  vows  righteously.  She  was  pleased,  too, 
to  see  the  drawn  blinds,  the  closed  shops,  the  steady,  silent, 
respectful  country  crowds,  the  flag  which  hung  half-mast 
high  on  the  keep  of  the  ancient  town-castle. 

"  They  could  scarce  do  more  if  't  was  a  royal  prince. 
'Tis  consoling  to  see  such  respect  and  such  lamentation," 
she  murmured,  looking  out  furtively  from  the  handker- 
chief in  which  her  face  appeared  buried.  The  part  of  her 
character  which  had  taken  pleasure  in  the  great  folk  and 
the  great  houses,  and  the  great  successes  of  their  English 
life,  thrilled  with  pride  to  think  that  her  "  man,"  her  own 
man,  with  whom  she  had  toiled  and  moiled  so  many,  many 
years,  was  being  honored  in  his  obsequies  thus.  Even 
English  Royalty  was  represented  at  the  funeral  by  a 
small  slim  young  gentleman  with  an  eyeglass,  who  be- 
longed to  the  Household  and  brought  with  him  an  enor- 
mous wreath  of  gardenia  and  Bermuda  lilies. 

Her  daughter,  whose  eyes  were  dry,  and  who  had  no 
handkerchief  even  in  her  hand,  did  not  answer,  but  she 
thought :  "  The  respect  and  the  lamentation  are  bought 
like  the  crape  and  the  horses'  plumes,  like  the  lies  on  the 
silver  coffin-plate  and  the  stolen  place  in  the  Roxhall 
crypt ! ' 

"  That  darter  o'  Massarene's  a  hard  woman,"  said  a 
cooper  of  the  town  to  a  wheelwright.  "  Not  a  drop  o' 
water  in  her  eye  for  her  pore  murdered  dad." 


388  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  One  don't  pipe  one's  eye  when  one  comes  into  a 
fortun',"  said  the  wheelwright,  winking  his  own.  "  And 
such  a  fortun' !  For  my  part  I  respect  her ;  she  don't 
pretend  nought." 

u  No,  she  don't  pretend.  But  one  likes  to  see  a  little 
'uman  feelin',"  said  the  more  tender-hearted  cooper, 
watching  the  tails  of  the  black  horses  sweep  the  stones  of 
the  High  Street.  That  was  the  general  public  sentiment 
in  Woldshire  against  Katherine  Massarene.  She  was  a 
hard  young  woman.  The  county  foresaw  that  she  would 
draw  her  purse-strings  very  tight,  and  be  but  of  little  use 
to  it.  "A  hard  young  woman,"  they  all  thought,  as  they 
saw  her  straight  delicate  profile,  like  a  fine  ivory  intaglio, 
through  the  glass  of  her  equipage. 

It  was  a  fine  day  in  early  summer  and  the  sun  shone  on 
the  green  cornfields,  the  sheep  in  the  meadows,  the  cows 
under  the  pollards,  the  whirling  sails  of  windmills,  the 
tall  yellow  flags  in  the  ditches,  the  hamlets  dotting  the 
level  lands,  the  village  children  climbing  on  stiles  to  see 
the  pageant  pass. 

Katherine  looked  out  at  the  simple  landscape  and  the 
soft  dim  blue  of  the  sky,  and  felt  sick  at  heart. 

"  Am  I  a  monster,"  she  thought,  "  that  I  can  feel  no 
common  ordinary  sorrow,  no  common  natural  regret  even, 
nothing  but  a  burning  humiliation?" 

The  solemn  and  stately  procession  went  on  its  way 
decorously  and  tediously,  along  the  country  roads  which 
separated  the  county  town  from  the  park  of  Vale  Royal. 
Everybody  in  the  carriages  which  one  by  one  followed 
the  widow's  were  excruciatingly  bored ;  but  they  all  wore 
long  faces,  and  conversed  under  their  breath  of  the  Good- 
wood meeting,  of  the  prospect  of  the  hay  harvest,  of 
quarter  sessions,  of  pigeon  matches,  of  drainage,  of  en- 
silage, and  of  the  promise  of  the  young  broods  in  the 
coverts. 

"  I  think  death  is  made  more  of  a  nuisance  than  it  need 
be  really,"  said  the  slender  young  gentleman  who  repre- 
sented Royalty  to  the  Gustos  Rotulorum,  who  replied  with 
a  groan,  "  Oh,  Lord,  yes  !  If  one  could  only  smoke  !  " 

For  two  miles  and  more  the  roads  had  been  lined  by 
rural  folks  waiting  respectfully  for  the  pageant  to  pass 


THE  MASSARENES.  389 

by ;  but  as  they  drew  near  Vale  Royal  and  entered  on 
what  had  been  Roxhall's  lands,  all  the  cottages  which 
they  passed  were  shut  up ;  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child 
was  visible  in  the  little  gardens  or  in  the  fields  beyond. 

"  I  suppose  the  cottagers  are  all  gone  on  to  the  church- 
yard," said  a  plump  rector  in  one  of  the  carriages,  as  he 
looked  out  of  his  window. 

The  town  clerk,  who  was  beside  him,  said  in  a  whisper  : 
"  You  won't  see  a  man-jack  of  Roxhall's  old  tenants  or 
peasantry  show  their  noses  to-day.  They  neither  forget 
nor  forgive." 

"  How  very  un-Christian  !  "  said  the  plump  rector,  with 
a  sigh. 

"  Fidelity's  its  own  religion,"  said  the  town  clerk,  who 
had  been  born  on  a  farm  on  Roxhall's  land,  and  had  hated 
to  see  the  old  homesteads  and  the  familiar  fields  pass  to 
the  man  from  Dakota. 

He  was  a  true  prophet.  None  of  the  peasantry  or  of 
the  tenantry  were  visible  on  the  roads  or  at  the  church  of 
Vale  Royal,  which  was  within  the  park  gates  and  sur- 
rounded by  yew  trees  and  holly  hedges ;  they  were  loyal 
to  their  lost  lord.  Princes  and  nobles  and  ministers  might 
truckle  to  the  wealth  of  the  dead  man,  but  these  men  of 
the  soil  were  faithful  to  the  old  owners  of  the  soil.  They 
despised  the  newcomer,  living  or  dead. 

The  bishop  of  the  diocese  was  awaiting  the  body,  sur- 
rounded by  minor  clergy,  in  the  little,  dusky,  venerable 
church,  with  its  square  Saxon  tower  and  its  moss-grown 
tombstones  standing  about  it  in  the  long  grass  (like  those 
of  Staghurst  and  of  many  an  English  God's-acre)  under  the 
yews,  which  were  of  vast  size  and  unknown  age.  The 
coffin  of  William  Massarene  was  placed  in  the  middle  of 
the  aisle,  as  Garnet's  in  the  Pantheon,  and  the  wreaths 
were  heaped  round  it  in  the  grotesque  and  odious  manner 
clear  to  the  close  of  the  most  vulgar  of  all  centuries.  One 
of  them,  made  of  gloxinias,  rose  and  white,  had  the  card 
of  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  attached  to  it.  The  sun 
shone  mild  and  serene ;  the  birds  sang  above  the  black 
figures  of  the  mourners ;  the  voice  of  the  venerable  prelate 
droned  on  like  a  bumble-bee  buzzing  on  a  window-pane ; 
selections  from  Weber  in  E  flat  were  played  and  vocalized 


390  THE  MASSARENES. 

with  exquisite  taste  by  admirable  artistes ;  all  the  gentle- 
men present  stood  bareheaded  and  solemn  of  countenance, 
trying  to  look  affected  and  only  succeeding  in  looking 
bored.  The  daughter  of  the  dead  man  assisted  at  the 
ceremony  with  revolted  taste  and  aching  heart.  To  her 
it  was  one  long  sickening  penance,  painfully  ludicrous  in 
its  mockery  and  hypocrisy  and  folly.  Every  word  of  the 
burial  service  sounded  on  her  ear  like  the  laughter  of 
some  demon.  Her  father's  life  had  been  a  long  black 
crime,  none  the  less,  but  the  greater  because  one  of  those 
crimes  which  are  not  punished  but  rewarded  by  men ;  and 
he  was  bidden  to  enter  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord ! 

"Kathleen  may  say  what  she  likes,  but  that  pretty 
creature  has  shown  a  deal  of  heart,"  thought  Margaret 
Massarene,  kneeling  under  her  overwhelming  masses  of 
crape  before  the  heaps  of  gummed  and  nailed  and  wired 
flowers  which  were  considered  emblematic  of  the  Christian 
religion  and  her  lost  William's  soul.  The  pretty  creature 
represented  by  the  garland  of  gloxinias  had  written  her  a 
most  affecting  and  even  affectionate  note  on  the  previous 
evening,  saying  how  grieved  she  was  that  a  touch  of 
bronchitis  kept  her  confined  to  her  room,  as  it  prevented 
her  attendance  at  the  committal  to  earth  of  the  remains 
of  her  kind  and  valued  friend.  That  note  Margaret  Mas- 
sarene had  not  shown  to  her  daughter,  but  had  wept  over 
it  and  shut  it  up  in  her  dressing-box. 

"  Kathleen's  that  hard,"  she  had  thought,  as  the  crowds 
of  South  Woldshire  were  thinking  it,  "  she  wouldn't  be 
made  to  believe  in  the  Duchess's  sorrow  if  the  angels 
descended  from  the  clouds  to  swear  to  it !  " 

Outside  the  church  there  were  two  brakes  filled  with 
wreaths  from  less  distinguished  givers  piled  one  on  an- 
other, as  if  they  were  garbage ;  for  these  there  had  been 
no  room  in  the  church.  The  savages  who  carry  scalps 
and  weapons  to  a  dead  chief 's  grave  are  considerably  in 
advance  of  fin  de  sticle  England  in  sense  of  fitness  and 
consistency  in  funeral  rites. 

From  the  church,  when  the  burial  service  was  over,  the 
body  was  borne  to  a  mausoleum  of  granite,  gloomy,  dark 
and  solemn,  which  had  been  the  place  of  sepulchre  of  the 
Roxhall  family  for  many  centuries.  The  building  above 


THE  MASSARENES.  391 

ground  was  of  the  eighteenth  century,  but  the  crypt 
beneath  it  was  as  old  as  the  clays  of  the  great  oak  in  the 
park  which  was  called  King  Alfred's.  Its  subterranean 
vaults  were  spacious  and  spread  far  under  arched  ceilings, 
supported  by  short  Doric  pillars  ;  here  there  were  many 
knights  lying  in  effigy  on  their  tombs  ;  many  shields  hung 
to  the  columns,  many  banners  drooping  in  the  gloom;  here 
an  ancient,  gallant,  chivalrous  race  had  placed  its  dead  in  ( 
their  last  rest  for  a  thousand  years.  The  latest  made 
grave  was  a  little  child's,  a  three-year-old  daughter  of 
Roxhall's,  with  a  white  marble  lily  carved  on  the  marble 
above  her,  for  her  name  had  been  Lillias,  and  she  had  died 
from  a  fall.  The  coffin  of  William  Massarene  was  placed 
beside  this  little  child's. 

The  keeper  of  a  gambling  den  lay  with  the  fair  children, 
the  pure  women,  and  the  brave  men  of  an  honored  race. 

To  Katherine  the  desecration  of  the  place  seemed  blas- 
phemous. 

How  could  Roxhall  have  sold  the  very  graves  of  his 
race?  She  thought  of  his  cousin  Hurstmanceaux ;  he 
would  have  died  sooner.  As  the  choir  sang  the  Bene- 
dictus  of  Gounod,  and  the  sweet  spiritual  melodies  warbled 
softly  over  the  still  open  vault,  she  felt  sick  with  the  satire 
and  the  derision  of  the  whole  scene.  The  Lord-Lieuten- 
ant, who  stood  on  her  right,  looked  at  her  with  anxiety. 

"  Do  you  feel  faint  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Is  it  too  much  for 
you?  Ladies  should  not  go  through  such  trying  cere- 
monies." 

"I  am  quite  well,  thanks,"  she  replied  coldly;  and  he 
too  thought  what  an  uncivil  and  unfeeling  person  she 
was. 

"  I  suppose  she  is  not  sure  to  inherit,  and  so  is  worried," 
thought  the  gentleman ;  he  could  imagine  no  other  possi- 
ble motive  for  so  much  coldness  and  so  much  evidently 
painful  emotion. 

"  Well,  'tis  all  over,"  thought  the  dead  man's  widow. 
"  But  'tis  strange  to  think  as  so  masterful  a  man  as  poor  / 
dear  William  is  gone  where  he  won't  never  have  his  own 
way  any  more! " 

Her  ideas  of  a  future  state  were  vague,  but  so  far  as 
they  were  formulated,  they  always  represented  immortal 


392  THE  MASSABENES. 

life  to  her  as  a  kind  of  perpetual  Sunday  school,  with 
much  music  and  considerable  discipline.  She  felt  that 
William  would  be  very  uncomfortable  with  such  limited 
opportunities  for  "making  deals  "  and  swinging  his  stock- 
whip, as  it  were,  around  him.  She  \\as  a  devoutly  reli- 
gious woman,  but  her  common  sense  made  her  piety  a  t 
difficult  matter,  as  common  sense  is  apt  to  do  to  many 
pious  persons.  She  could  not  bring  her  mind  into  any 
actual  conception  of  her  dead  husband  as  powerless  to  as- 
sert his  will,  or  gone  whither  his  banking  books  would  be 
useless  to  buy  him  a  warm  place. 

When  the  service  was  over  and  the  bishop  had  spoken 
some  beautiful  impressive  words,  during  the  delivery  of 
which  every  one  present  looked  rapt  and  divided  between 
ecstasy  and  anguish  (Katharine  alone  having  her  usual 
expression  of  reserve  and  indifference),  all  the  mourners 
and  officials  flocked  across  the  park  to  the  great  house  to 
enjoy,  in  their  several  places,  according  to  their  rank,  the 
magnificent  luncheon  which  was  destined  to  be  the  last 
effort  of  Richemont  in  the  Massarene  service. 

Katherine  and  her  mother  were,  during  the  banqueting, 
closeted  with  the  solicitors  and  administrators  to  hear  the 
reading  of  the  will.  The  executors  were  two  solid  and 
sagacious  city  magnates,  for  in  business  matters  the  testa- 
tor had  only  trusted  business  men. 

His  daughter  was  undisturbed ;  she  felt  quite  certain 
that  he  would  have  disinherited  her.  He  would,  she  felt 
sure,  have  disposed  of  his  millions  in  some  splendid,  public, 
and  sensational  way.  His  widow  was  visibly  nervous  and 
anxious. 

"  I  never  saw  an  inch  into  his  mind  in  this  matter,"  she 
thought.  "  'Tis  quite  likely  as  he'll  cut  us  both  off  with 
a  shilling." 

To  dispute  his  will,  whatever  it  might  be,  never  occurred 
as  possible  to  one  who  had  been  his  obedient  slave  nigh 
forty  years. 

She  listened  in  strained  and  painful  attention  as  she 
sat  in  the  library  with  her  daughter,  and  the  great  London 
solicitor,  who  had  been  the  person  chiefly  trusted  by  Mas- 
sarene, opened  the  monentous  document  and  laid  it  before 
him,  and,  resting  his  hand  upon  it,  said  to  the  two  women: 


THfi  MA88AEENE8.  393 

"  My  dear  ladies,  there  is  no  later  will  than  that  made 
ten  years  ago,  which,  with  your  permission,  I  will  now 
proceed  to  read  to  you.  It  is  to  be  presumed  that  the 
deceased  always  remained  in  the  same  dispositions  of 
mind  and  feeling,  since  he  has  never  even  added  a  codicil 
to  this  document." 

With  that  preamble  he  turned  toward  the  light  and 
read  aloud  a  testament  of  much  simplicity  considering  the 
enormous  fortune  of  which  it  disposed.  It  left  every- 
thing unreservedly  to  his  only  child,  Katherine  Massarene, 
and  provided  only  that  she  should  pay  to  her  mother  the 
annual  sum  of  a  thousand  pounds  a  year.  It  left  nothing 
whatever  directly  to  his  wife,  not  even  jewels,  and  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  bequests  to  hospitals  and  executors,  pro- 
vided for  nothing  else  than  the  transmission  of  his  entire 
property  to  his  daughter,  for  her  own  absolute  and  unre- 
stricted possession  on  the  attainment  of  her  majority: 
that  age  she  had  now  passed  by  four  years. 

The  envied  inheritor  of  this  envied  and  enormous  wealth 
showed  no  emotion  which  they  could  construe  into  either 
surprise  or  exultation ;  her  features  might  have  been  of 
marble  for  any  change  they  displayed.  An  immense  con- 
sternation paralyzed  her.  She  had  hoped  that  the  dislike 
her  father  had  conceived  for  her,  and  the  disappointment 
she  had  caused  him,  would  have  led  to  his  leaving  away 
from  her  some  very  large  portion  of  his  wealth.  She 
would  not  have  been  surprised,  and  she  would  have  been 
infinitely  relieved,  if  he  had  left  her  nothing  at  all.  That 
she  could  by  any  possibility  become  sole  mistress  of  this 
immense  property  which  was  so  loathsome  to  her  had 
never  for  a  moment  occurred  to  her.  Royal  legatees, 
public  institutions,  churches,  endo\vments,  asylums,  any 
one  of  the  many  means  by  which  the  dead  glorify  their 
memory  and  purchase  a  brief  respite  from  the  cruelty  of 
oblivion,  would,  she  had  imagined,  have  preceded  her  in 
her  father's  bequests. 

She  had  forgotten  the  fact  that  to  such  men  as  William 
Massarene  the  continuation  of  their  own  blood  in  alliance 
with  their  wealth  is  absolutely  necessary  to  their  ambi- 
tion. For  that  reason,  although  he  had  often  thought  of 
leaving  his  fortune  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  or  to  the  Na- 


394  THE  MASSARENES. 

tion,  he  had  never  actually  brought  himself  to  revoke  the 
will  in  his  only  living  child's  favor. 

Her  mother  sat  still  for  a  moment,  a  deep  purple  flush 
covering  her  big  and  pallid  face.  Then  for  the  solitary 
time  in  all  her  life  she  rose  with  dignity  to  the  exigency 
of  a  trying  hour. 

"  Gentlemen,"  she  said,  in  a  firm  voice  to  those  present, 
"what  is  my  child's  is  the  same  as  though  't  were  mine, 
and  she  is  learned  and  a  true  lady,  and  she'll  grace  all  she 
gets.  But  my  husband  should  Lev  thought  twice  before 
he  put  such  a  slight  upon  me,  his  partner  for  nigh  forty 
year,  who  worked  with  him  in  cold  and  heat,  in  mud  and 
sweat,  in  hunger  and  in  sorrow.  Still  the  pile  was  his 
own  to  do  as  he  liked  with,  and  never  think,  gentlemen, 
as  I  dream  o'  putting  forward  any  contrary  claim." 

The  gentlemen  present  heard  in  respectful  silence. 
The  fat,  homely,  vulgar  woman  was  transfigured  by  the 
noble  endurance  of  a  great  wrong. 

On  reflection  men  deride  such  sentiments,  but  their 
first  impulse  is  to  respect  them  and  to  salute  them  with 
respect.  First  thoughts  are  often  best. 

Katherine  looked  at  her  with  deep  sorrow  in  her  eyes ; 
but  she  sat  quite  still  with  no  expression  on  her  face,  at 
least,  none  that  the  men  present  could  construe. 

The  lawyers  and  executors  timidly  began  to  offer 
their  congratulations ;  they  were  afraid  of  this  stately, 
cold,  mute,  young  woman,  who  gave  no  sign  either  of  ex- 
ultation or  of  mourning;  it  seemed  to  them,  as  it  always 
seemed  to  every  one,  as  if  she  could  not  possibly  bear  any 
relation  to  the  dead  millionaire. 

She  stopped  their  felicitations  with  a  gesture,  and  rose. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  sirs,  if  I  cannot  converse  with 
you,  and  if  I  leave  you  now.  After  to-day  I  shall  be 
always  at  your  disposition  for  any  business  that  may  re- 
quire me.  Meantime,  consider  this  house  yours.  Come, 
my  dear  mother." 

She  took  her  mother's  hand  and  forced  her  to  rise  ;  then 
made  a  low  formal  curtsey  to  the  men  present  and  passed 
out  of  the  room,  leading  her  mother  with  her. 

"  Well,  I  never,"  said  one  of  the  city  gentlemen. 

"She  knows  the  time  o'  day,"  said  the  other. 


MASSAEENES.  395 

"  I  think  she'll  be  near,"  said  the  country  lawyer. 

"  She's  mighty  grand  and  distant,"  said  the  first 
speaker. 

The  London  solicitor  said  nothing.  He  admired  her. 
But  he  felt  that  she  would  not  be  an  easy  client  if  she 
left  the  affairs  in  his  hands.  She  would  want  to  know  the 
why  aud  the  wherefore  of  everything.  No  man  of  law 
likes  that. 

Katherine,  when  she  was  alone  with  her  mother  in  her 
own  rooms,  bent  down  and  kissed  Mrs.  Massarene's  pale 
face. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  what  a  shame  to  you,  what  an 
injustice  and  insult!  Oh,  if  I  had  only  known  what  he 
had  done  when  he  was  living  !  Why  would  you  never 
let  me  speak  to  him  of  his  will  ?  " 

Her  voice  shook  with  deep-rooted  anger  and  exceeding 
pain.  She  was  indignant  to  be  made  the  instrument  of 
her  mother's  humiliation. 

"  My  dear,  you  wouldn't  have  altered  him,"  said  her 
mother,  between  her  sobs.  "  He  wished  to  lay  me  low, 
and  he's  done  it.  But  he  was  a  great  man,  was  poor  Wil- 
liam, all  the  same.  It's  a  bitter  pill  to  swallow,"  she  con- 
tinued, between  her  sobs,  "  and  I  don't  deserve  it  from 
him,  for  I  toiled 'day  and  night  for  him,  and  with  him, 
when  neither  of  us  had  more  than  the  clothes  we  stood  up 
in,  and  't  was  just  what  I  made  by  washing  and  cooking 
as  kept  us  on  our  legs  for  the  first  year  in  that  blackguard 
township.  Of  course  I  was  in  the  way  of  late  years.  He 
would  have  liked  to  take  a  young  wife  with  a  great  name, 
I  and  have  sons  and  that  like.  'Twas  only  natural,  per- 
I  haps  ;  I  was  but  a  clog  upon  him.  But  he  forgot  all  the 
early  years  we  toiled  together." 

"It  is  an  infamy !  His  will  is  the  greatest  crime  of  an 
abominable  life !  "  said  Katherine,  with  deep  wrath  shin- 
ing in  her  eyes  and  quivering  on  her  lips. 

"Hush!  He  was  your  father,"  said  his  wife.  "And 
he  was  a  great  man  ;  there's  excuse  for  men  as  is  great — • 
they  can't  be  tied  down  like  common  folks." 

Then,  poor  soul,  she  leaned  her  head  on  her  hands  and 
wept  bitterly. 

This  will,  so  short  and  simple  in  comparison  with  the 


396  THE 

enormous  wealth  it  disposed  of,  had  been  the  only  one 
signed  amongst  the  various  testaments  he  had  caused  to 
be  written.  It  had  been  made  on  his  arrival  in  England 
when  Katherine  had  been  fourteen  years  old,  when  his 
ambitions  had  all  centred  in  her,  and  on  her  head  he  had 
in  imagination  seen  resting  the  circlet  of  some  ducal  coro- 
net or  princely  crown. 

Moreover  he  had  always  loathed  the  thought  of  death ; 
to  this  man  of  iron  strength  and  constant  success  the  idea 
of  something  which  was  stronger  than  himself,  and  which 
would  put  an  end  to  his  success,  was  horrible. 

The  slight  to  his  wife  he  would  always  have  caused  :  he 
could  not  forgive  her  for  not  having  died  long  before  in 
Kerosene  City.  He  went  as  near  to  hatred  of  her  as  a 
man  of  sluggish  blood,  and  superstitious  respect  for  cus- 
tom and  conventionality,  could  allow  himself  to  do.  She 
was  a  great  burden,  a  drawback  and  disfigurement ;  she 
was  stupid  and  tactless ;  she  had  no  powers  of  assimila- 
tion ;  and  in  all  her  grandeur  and  glory  she  remained  the 
Margaret  Hogan  of  Kilrathy.  He  paid  her  out  for  her 
persistency  in  living  on  and  being  as  incongruous  in  his 
fine  houses  as  a  dish  of  pigs'  trotters  would  have  been  at 
one  of  his  dinners  for  Royal  Highnesses. 

She  had  toiled  hard  with  and  for  him  in  the  Northwest ; 
she  had  laid  the  first  modest  foundations  on  which  he  had 
subsequently  been  able  to  raise  his  golden  temple  ;  and 
for  that  very  reason  he  detested  her  and  cut  her  off  with 
a  meagre  legacy,  and  recalled  to  her  that  her  jewels  even 
had  been  only  lent  to  her,  never  given. 

Philosophers  and  psychologists  when  they  reason  on 
human  nature  do  not  realize  the  enormous  place  which 
pure  spite  occupies  in  its  motives  and  actions. 

All  the  use  she  had  been  to  him,  all  her  industry,  pa- 
tience, affection,  and  self-denial  had  all  counted  for  noth- 
ing with  him  ;  she  was  a  blot  on  his  greatness,  a  ridicu- 
lous figure  in  his  houses,  and  her  existence  had  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  marrying  some  fair  young  virgin  of  noble 
race  who  might  have  given  him  an  heir,  and  let  him  cut 
off  his  daughter  with  a  shilling.  He  did  not  therefore 
make  a  new  will,  because  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind 
to  disinherit  his  only  living  representative;  besides  that, 


THE  MASSARENES.  397 

he  felt  that  he  had  at  least  another  score  of  years  to  live  ; 
and  probably  he  would  have  reached  his  fourscore  and 
ten  and  died  an  earl,  as  he  intended  to  do,  had  not  the 
bullet  of  Robert  Airley  cut  short  his  career. 

But  the  vengeance  of  a  poor  Scotch  workingman  had 
put  an  end  to  all,  and  his  wife  had  survived  him  and  was 
sobbing  into  her  handkerchief  whilst  his  daughter  became 
sole  inheritrix  of  his  millions  and  estates. 

He  had  made  many  other  dispositions  of  his  property, 
but  as  these  others  were  all  unsigned  they  were  worth 
nothing  at  all  in  the  sight  of  the  law.  His  daughter  was 
the  richest  woman  in  Great  Britain,  and  all  those  whose 
offers  of  marriage  had  been  rejected  by  her  cursed  her 
with  the  heartiest  unanimity. 

Meanwhile  she  herself  felt  as  though  an  avalanche  had 
fallen  on  her  and  overwhelmed  her. 

"  That  creature  has  got  everything !  "  said  the  Duchess 
of  Otterbourne,  as  she  read  the  synopsis  of  the  will  in  the 
newspapers.  "Oh,  why  did  Ronnie  not  make  himself 
pleasant  and  marry  her  ! "  The  soiled  linen  which  she  was 
conscious  of  having  piled  up  against  herself  in  the  dead 
man's  hand  would  at  least  have  been  washed  enfamille! 

By  the  solicitor's  and  executors'  request,  Katherine  who 
seemed  to  all  who  surrounded  her  the  most  favored  mortal 
under  the  sun  went  to  London  on  the  day  following  the 
funeral.  Her  mother  would  not  go  with  her. 

"  I'll  never  set  foot  in  that  house  no  more,"  she  said ; 
its  gilded  gates  and  marble  staircase  with  the  smiling  nude 
boy  of  Clodion  had  become  hateful  to  her.  She  was  not 
physically  ill,  but  she  was  nervous,  depressed,  cried  for 
hours,  and  wished  incessantly  that  she  had  never  left  the 
dairy  and  the  pastures  of  Kilrathy.  "I'm  Humpty 
Dumpty  tumbled  off  the  wall,"  she  said  more  than  once. 
"  All  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  won't  put 
me  together  again." 

"  Oh,  it  is  shameful,  shameful !  "said  Katherine  between 
her  teeth.  "  And  to  make  me  the  instrument  to  wound 
you  !  What  cynical  cruelty !  " 

She  implored  her  mother  to  resist  the  will,  to  dispute  it 
in  court ;  to  claim  a  proper  share  of  a  fortune  which  she 
had  largely  contributed  to  gain. 


398  THE  MASSARENES. 

But  her  mother  would  not  hear  of  such  a  thing.  "  I 
ain't  going  to  put  good  gold  and  silver  in  attorneys' 
pockets,"  she  said  resolutely.  "  I  wouldn't  bring  Wil- 
liam's will  into  litigation,  no,  not  if  I  was  starvin'  on  the 
the  streets.  He  was  a  great  man  when  all's  said  and 
done,  and  it  won't  be  me  as  dishonors  him."  For  she  was 
very  proud  of  him  now  he  was  gone  and  lying  under  his 
marble  slab  in  the  RoxhalFs  crypt ;  he  had  stuck  a  knife 
in  her,  as  it  were,  but  she  did  not  complain  of  the  wound  ; 
he  had  been  the  "bull-dozing  boss"  to  the  last  and  he  had 
had  a  right  to  be  it. 

The  natural  bitterness  she  felt  did  not  turn  against 
him,  but  against  her  daughter. 

" You'll  marry  very  high  now"  murmured  Margaret 
Massarene.  "  Lord !  There's  nothing  you  may  not  get  if 
you  wish  it." 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  said  Katherine  ;  and  through  her 
memory  passed  the  simile  of  the  hangman's  daughter. 

She  felt  crushed  to  earth  with  the  weight  of  this  loath- 
some inheritance.  It  was  odious  to  her  as  blood-money. 
Where  could  she  go,  what  could  she  do,  to  escape  from 
the  world,  which  would  see  in  her  a  golden  idol  whilst  to 
herself  only  the  clay  feet  standing  in  mud  would  be 
visible  ? 

Outside  Harrenden  House  there  was  the  incessant  move- 
ment of  the  London  season  at  its  perihelion  ;  the  gaietjr, 
the  haste,  the  press,  the  excitement,  the  display  of  a 
capital  in  its  most  crowded  hour.  Within  all  was 
gloom,  silence,  mournings.  Only  the  boy  of  Cloclion  still 
laughed. 

The  weary  work  of  examination,  verification,  classifica- 
tion, began  ;  all  the  wearisome  formalities  which  follow  on 
the  death  of  a  rich  man.  The  executors,  the  solicitors, 
and  the  household  all  alike  felt  awe  and  dread  of  the 
new  owner  of  the  fortune.  Her  silence  seemed  to  them  un- 
natural. She  was  always  at  the  command  of  the  men  of 
business,  and  she  was  always  perfectly  courteous  to  every 
one,  but  they  were  afraid  of  her.  She  broke  all  the  seals 
herself  in  the  presence  of  those  who  had  a  right  to  be  with 
her,  and  examined,  herself  alone,  all  the  mass  of  docu- 
ments left  by  her  father.  She  had  a  presentiment  that  there 


THE  MASSARENES.  399 

must  be  much  left  behind  him  that  would  dishonor  his 
memory,  and  disgrace  still  more  grossly  his  debtors.  She 
despised  from  the  depths  of  her  soul  all  those  illustrious 
persons  whose  names  figured  on  the  secret  ledgers  with 
their  Bramah  locks  which  he  had  kept  as  rigidly  as  he  had 
used  to  keep  his  books  in  Kerosene  City  when  it  was  but 
an  embryo  township.  But  she  wished  to  screen  them 
from  the  publicity  with  which  it  was  in  her  power  to  ruin, 
them  all ;  and  shortly  afterwards  several  great  persons 
were  at  once  infinitely  relieved,  embarrassed,  and  humili- 
ated by  having  their  obligations  returned  to  them. 

Strangely  as  it  seemed  to  her,  almost  one  of  the  first 
things  she  saw  in  a  drawer  of  her  father's  bureau  was  an 
envelope  with  the  superscription  : — 

"  To  be  sent  to  the  Earl  of  Hurstmanceaux  immediately 
on  my  demise.  W.  M." 

It  was  a  small  envelope  and  thin. 

It  seemed  odd  to  her  that  her  father  should  have  left  a 
missive  for  a  man  with  whom  he  had  no  acquaintance  and 
from  whom  he  had  received  only  insults.  But  she  con- 
cluded that  the  communication  must  regard  the  affairs  of 
Hurstmanceaux's  sister.  She  gave  the  letter  at  once  to  a 
confidential  servant  to  be  taken  to  Hurstmanceaux's 
London  address. 

In  half  an  hour  the  servant  returned. 

"  His  lordship  has  rooms  in  Bruton  Street,  madam  ;  but 
he  is  out  of  town,  they  do  not  know  where.  He  is  yacht- 
ing in  the  north  of  Ireland,  they  think ;  I  left  the  letter 
to  be  given  as  soon  as  he  arrives." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Katherine  ;  but  she  felt  afraid  that 
she  ought  to  have  sent  it  through  some  surer  channel ;  by 
the  superscription  it  was  probably  of  importance,  and  no 
doubt  treated  of  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne's  affairs. 
She  thought,  too  late,  that  it  would  have  been  wiser  to 
have  sent  it  to  Faldon  Castle,  where  she  remembered  he 
had  said  that  he  passed  most  part  of  the  year. 

In  the  same  afternoon  she  received  a  note  on  black- 
edged  paper  with  a  duchess's  coronet  on  the  envelope. 
It  said  : 


400  THE  MA8SABENE8. 

11  DEAR  Miss  MASSARENE. — I  could  not  tell  you  Iww  grieved 
I  have  been  at  the  appalling  tragedy.  I  have  thought  so  much 
of  you  in  your  bereavement,  and  of  your  poor  mother.  If  I 
had  not  suffered  from  bronchitis  I  should  have  com,e  in  person 
to  the  funeral.  I  hope  your  mother  received  my  note  ?  It  is 
all  so  dreadful  and  sadden  one  cannot  realize  it.  Did  my 
kind  good  friend  leave  no  letter  or  message  for  me  ?  You 
know  how  I  trusted  him  in  all  my  affairs,  and  the  loss  of  his 
experience  and  his  advice  is  to  me  an  immeasurable  misfor- 
tune. He  was  so  wonderfully  clever,  and  so  willing  to  counsel 
and  to  aid  !  His  loss  can  never  be  made  up  to  any  of  us.  In 
sincere  sympathy  I  remain,  "  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

44  CLARE  OTTERBOURNE." 

Katherine  read  the  note  twice  over.  She  profoundly 
mistrusted  the  writer.  It  read  very  naturally,  very  un- 
affectedly ;  but  it  was  wholly  impossible  that  the  writer 
could  be  sincere. 

She  was  about  to  reply  and  say  that  her  father  had  left 
a  letter  for  Hurstmanceaux  ;  but  on  second  thoughts  she 
doubted  if  she  had  a  right  to  do  so  ;  the  matter  belonged 
to  the  person  to  whom  the  letter  was  addressed,  who 
would  tell  his  sister  of  its  contents  or  not,  as  he  chose. 

She  wrote,  instead,  a  few  brief  polite  distant  words 
saying  that  she  had  as  yet  found  no  communication  for  the 
Duchess  amongst  her  father's  papers,  and  thanking  her 
for  her  expressions  of  sorrow  and  sympathy. 

44  Why  should  she  expect  any  remembrance  from  him  ?  " 
she  wondered.  44  Did  she  expect  to  be  named  in  his  will?  " 

She  felt  regret  that  Hurstmanceaux  was  out  of  town. 
She  thought  his  sister  quite  capable  of  going  to  Bruton 
Street  and  intercepting  the  letter  if  she  got  wind  of  it. 
Perhaps,  she  thought,  there  was  money  in  it ;  it  had  borne  a 
large  seal,  bearing  the  newly-found  arms  of  the  Massarenes. 

44  Did  my  father  ever  speak  to  you  of  the  Duchess  of 
Otterbourne  ?  "  she  asked  his  solicitor  that  afternoon. 

44  Never!  "  said  the  lawyer,  with  a  passing  smile. 

44  Did  you  ever  hear  that  he  helped  her  in  monetary 
affairs?" 

"  No,"  said  the  solicitor,  with  the  same  demure  suggest- 
ive smile  hovering  on  his  lips.  44But  everyone  knows 
that  Mr.  Massarene  was  a  great  admirer  of  that  lady." 


T&E  MASSARENES.  401 

Katherine  asked  him  no  more.  She  lighted  a  match 
and  burnt  the  sympathetic  little  note. 

Meanwhile  her  own  note  was  like  lead  on  the  heart  of 
its  recipient,  who  had  made  sure  that  some  message,  some 
bequest,  would  come  to  her  from  William  Massarene.  She 
knew  the  man  so  little,  despite  her  intelligence  and  worldly 
wisdom,  that  she  had  actually  believed  that  he  might  pro- 
vide for  the  restoration  to  her,  at  his  death,  of  her  own 
and  Beaumont's  signatures,  or  would  leave  her  some 
assurance  that  they  were  destroyed.  As  it  was,  in  the 
absence  of  any  indication,  she  could  not  tell  that  they 
might  not  at  any  moment  be  found  by  his  daughter  or  his 
executors.  Every  moment  of  these  weeks  was  a  torture 
to  her.  She  could  not  sleep  an  hour  at  night  without 
anodynes. 

It  was  now  the  beginning  of  July :  the  height  of  the 
season.  She  had  to  act  in  pastoral  plays,  keep  stalls  at 
bazaars,  go  to  garden-parties,  dinner-parties,  marriages, 
dejeuners,  flower-shows,  Primrose  gatherings,  and  be  seen 
once  at  least  at  a  Drawing-room.  She  did  not  dare  give 
in,  or  go  away,  or  pretend  to  be  ill,  because  she  was  afraid 
that  the  world  might  suspect  that  she  was  worried  by  the 
consequences  of  Massarene's  death.  These  days  during 
which  she  knew  that  his  heiress  must  be  searching 
amongst  his  papers,  reading  his  memoranda,  and  sorting 
his  correspondence,  were  the  most  horrible  of  her  life. 
She  felt  stretched  on  a  rack  from  morning  till  night. 
Outwardly  she  was  lovely,  impertinent,  careless,  gay,  as 
ever,  and  people  wondered  whom  she  would  marry ;  but 
her  mental  life  was  one  of  the  most  restless  conjecture,  the 
most  agonized  dread. 

As  the  days  became  weeks,  and  she  heard  nothing  of 
any  discovery  made  at  Harrenden  House,  she  began  to 
grow  quieter,  she  began  to  feel  reassured.  The  signa- 
tures no  doubt  had  been  burnt.  She  persuaded  herself 
that  they  had  certainly  been  burnt.  She  did  not  dream 
that  Beaumont's  receipt  and  the  type-written  lines  she 
herself  had  signed  had  been  enclosed,  without  a  word,  in 
the  sealed  letter  which  was  lying  awaiting  her  brother  at 
his  rooms  in  Bruton  street. 

The  same  night  that  he  had  returned  from  Paris,  Wil- 
36 


402  THE  MASSARENES. 

liam  Massarene,  who  never  left  till  to-morrow  that  which 
should  be  done  to-day,  had  put  them  in  that  envelope,  had 
addressed  and  sealed  them.  "Now  if  I  die  my  lady  will 
remember  rne,"  he  had  thought.  "  She'll  wish  she  hadn't 
called  me  Billy,  and  told  me  lies  about  the  Bird  rooms." 

In  his  own  way  at  that  time  he  was  fiercely  in  love  with 
her;  but  his  passion  did  not  make  him  forget  or  forgive. 
It  was  a  posthumous  vengeance  which  he  thus  arranged; 
but  it  was  a  diabolical  and  ingenious  one. 

Every  week  from  that  night  until  the  night  before  his 
murder  he  had  looked  at  that  letter  and  thought,  with  an 
inward  chuckle,  that  if  he  fell  down  in  a  fit,  or  died  of  a 
carriage  accident,  his  retaliation  was  safely  arranged  to 
smite  her  when  he  should  be  in  his  grave.  In  a  rough 
vague  way  he  believed  in  a  God  above  him.  Most  suc- 
cessful persons  do.  But  he  did  not  choose  to  leave  his 
revenge  to  the  hands  of  deity.  "Always  load  your  rifle 
yourself,"  was  his  maxim  in  death  as  in  life. 

He  knew  that  her  brother  was  the  one  person  on  earth 
whom  she  feared.  And  the  shell  he  thus  filled  to  burst 
after  his  death  would  hit  hard  Hurstmanceaux  himself, 
that  damnable  swell  who  would  not  speak  to  him  even  in 
a  street  or  a  club-house,  and  who  had  refused  his  heiress's 
hand  before  it  was  actually  offered  to  him!  "My  lord'll 
sing  small  when  he  learns  as  his  sister  was  saved  from  a 
criminal  charge  by  Billy's  dirty  dollars,"  he  had  thought 
as  he  had  prepared  that  envelope  which  his  heiress  now 
found  in  the  hush  and  gloom  of  Harrenden  House.  He 
might  have  made  his  vengeance  still  more  cruel.  He 
might  have  left  arrows  still  more  barbed  behind  him  to 
rankle  in  the  breast  of  that  proud  man,  of  that  penniless 
peer,  who  would  never  know  him.  But  he  had  always 
attached  great  importance  to  reputation  for  chastity;  he 
felt  ashamed  to  admit  in  his  mature  years  that  he  too  had 
felt  the  temptation  of  a  fair  face  and  of  a  lovely  form.  He 
did  not  like  to  confess,  even  posthumously,  his  own  frail- 
ties. 

So  he  had  only  enclosed  Tier  signature  and  Beaumont's. 
They  spoke  for  themselves.  They  were  enough;  they 
would  leave  to  himself  the  glory  of  a  generous  action,  and 
to  her  the  shame  of  a  mean  one. 


THE  MASSARENES.  403 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THERE  was  no  one  in  London  of  the  world  which  had 
been  William  Massarene's  highest  heaven.  The  August 
sun  shone  on  the  flower-beds  of  the  parks  in  all  their  glory, 
and  the  poor  forgotten  plants  which  drooped  in  the  balco- 
nies before  shuttered  windows,  and  the  cats,  forgotten 
also,  mewed  vainly  in  closed  kitchens  and  behind  iron 
railings,  and  the  dogs,  abandoned  to  servants  and  grooms, 
moped  sadly  in  stable  or  basement  yards,  or,  straying  out 
into  the  streets  and  mews,  were  lassoed  by  the  police  or 
coaxed  to  their  doom  by  the  agents  of  experimental  insti- 
tutes. Katherine  Massarene,  all  alone,  stayed  on  at  Har- 
renden  House,  absorbed  in  the  enormous  work  of  examin- 
ing her  late  father's  papers.  Her  mother  remained  in  the 
country,  whither  Katherine  went  from  Saturday  to  Mon- 
day to  see  her.  But  all  the  other  days  of  the  week  the 
inheritress  of  Mr.  Massarene's  wealth  spent  in  tracing  the 
sources  of  that  poisoned  and  blood-stained  Pactolus. 

He,  like  many  another  successful  and  masterful  man,  > 
had  never  taken  death  into  account,  or  he  would  have 
destroyed  many  of  those  written  witnesses  against  him. 
As  it  was,  he  had  kept  everything,  partly  from  the  sense 
of  power  which  it  gave  him  to  do  so,  partly  from  the 
prudent  sharpness  of  a  business  man  which  made  him 
never  lose  a  letter,  however  insignificant,  or  destroy  a  sig- 
nature, however  unneeded.  She  could  not  understand  all 
the  meaning  of  these  papers,  but  she  understood  much: 
enough  to  make  her  heart-sick  with  shame,  frozen  with 
horror.  She  had  always  known,  vaguely,  that  his  fortunes 
had  been  obtained  mainly  through  crimes  which  in  the 
successful  man  society  has  agreed  to  let  pass  as  virtues; 
but  she  could  now  name,  measure,  analyze  those  crimes 
and  see  them  in  all  their  entity,  as  drops  of  blood  are  seen 
under  a  microscope. 

Thus  she  became  acquainted  with  all  the  steps  which 
had  conducted  him  from  the  straw  of  the  cattle-shed  to 


404  THE  HASSARENES, 

the  carpets  of  Harrenden  House.  That  small  study,  in 
which  he  had  kept  locked  all  his  ledgers,  folios,  banking- 
books,  and  documents  of  every  kind,  seemed  like  a  very 
charnel-house  to  its  new  visitant.  She  had  read  very 
widely;  she  had  thought  a  great  deal;  and  to  her  clear 
and  cultured  intelligence  the  true  aims  and  objects  of  her 
father's  life  seemed  as  sordid  and  miserable  as  those  of  the 
ragged  men  whom  she  had  seen  in  her  childhood  greedily 
washing  river  sand  in  tin  pannikins  in  the  hope  of  finding 
some  gleam  of  gold,  and  ready  to  murder  their  bosom 
friend  to  secure  a  grain  of  the  coveted  metal. 

Among  those  papers  was  the  letter  written  by  the  Suf- 
folk emigrant  for  Robert  Airley.  She  read  it,  and  it 
flashed  across  her  mind  that  Robert  Airley  had  come  to 
England  and  had  killed  her  father.  There  was  nothing 
oO  suggest  it,  nothing  to  prove  it;  but  she  had  no  more 
doubt  of  it  than  if  she  had  heard  the  confession  of  the 
assassin.  She  telegraphed  to  Kerosene  City  to  inquire 
where  Robert  Airley  was.  It  was  telegraphed  back  to  her 
that  he  had  sailed  for  Liverpool  on  the  30th  of  May :  her 
father  had  been  shot  on  the  night  of  the  17th  of  June  :  she 
had  no  doubt  after  this  that  her  inference  had  been  cor- 
rect. And  it  had  not  been  murder,  but  justice  !  Justice 
red-handed  and  rude — the  lex  talionis^  but  justice  never- 
theless. 

Through  suggestions  from  the  American  police,  and 
Massarene's  manager,  the  same  suspicions  were  enter- 
tained by  Scotland  Yard.  But  Robert  Airley  was  lost 
sight  of  on  his  arrival  in  London,  and,  as  the  woman  of 
the  eating-house  held  her  peace  and  kept  her  own  coun- 
sel, he  remained  untraced. 

She  said  nothing  of  what  she  found  and  thought  to  her 
mother,  and  lived  on  in  that  state  of  isolated  reflection 
and  regret  which  can  only  be  supported  by  those  who  are 
strong  in  character  and  independent  of  sympathy,  but 
from  which  even  they  suffer  greatly.  She  did  not  try  to 
trace  Robert  Airley.  When  she  heard  that  he  was  sus- 
pected of  the  crime  but  could  not  be  found,  she  was  re- 
lieved to  think  that  he  was  lost  to  sight;  his  seizure  and 
trial  would  have  been  agony  to  her.  The  horror  of  her 
discoveries  and  the  shame  of  them  filled  her  with  a  feeling 


THE  MASSAEENE8.  405 

as  of  personal  guilt.  She  looked  worn,  unwell,  aged;  she 
had  nothing  in  her  regard,  in  her  mariner,  in  her  thoughts, 
of  the  sense  of  freedom  and  power  which  all  would  have 
expected  her  to  feel  in  such  an  accession  to  immense 
wealth,  in  entire  liberty.  She  had  no  one  to  whom  she 
could  speak  of  anything  which  she  felt.  Lord  Framling- 
ham  was  in  India,  and  he  was  the  only  person  to  whom 
she  could  have  confided  something  of  her  anxieties,  her 
shame,  her  uncertainty  what  to  do  and  how  to  bear  the 
burden  laid  upon  her.  She  knew  that  she  must  carry  all 
her  knowledge  shut  up  in  her  own  breast  as  long  as  she 
lived.  It  lay  like  a  stone  upon  her,  as  did  the  inheritance 
of  all  this  ill-gotten  wealth. 

One  day,  when  she  was  as  usual  in  the  little  study  por- 
ing over  an  old  ledger,  one  of  the  servants  brought  her  a 
card.  On  it  was  printed,  "  Earl  of  Hurstmanceaux."  She 
was  surprised,  much  surprised,  but  she  remembered  the 
letter  her  father  had  addressed  to  him.  She  hesitated  some 
moments :  if  he  came  on  his  sister's  business  could  he  not 
go  to  the  lawyer  ? 

"  Ask  Lord  Hurstmanceaux  to  be  so  good  as  to  see  the 
solicitors,"  she  said  to  the  servant,  who  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  with  the  reply  that  Lord  Hurstmanceaux  desired 
the  favor  of  a  personal  interview. 

"  Show  him  into  the  library  then,"  she  said,  much  sur- 
prised. "  I  will  come  to  him  there." 

She  put  back  the  ledger  in  its  place,  closed  the  case 
which  held  it,  and  left  the  room,  locking  the  door  with 
that  safety -key  which  had  never  quitted  her  father's 
watch-chain  in  his  lifetime,  and  which  she  carried  now 
always  on  hers. 

She  did  not  go  to  her  room  to  see  how  she  looked,  as 
most  women  would  have  done ;  she  did  not  even  glance 
at  one  of  the  mirrors  in  the  rooms  through  which  she 
passed.  She  went  as  she  was,  looking  very  white,  very 
worn,  very  stern  in  her  close  black  gown,  to  the  other  end 
of  the  house  where  the  library  was. 

Hurstmanceaux  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  ;  the  light  from  one  of  the  windows  shone  on  his 
fair  hair.  She  saw  that  he  too  was  very  pale  and  ap 
peared  distressed  and  embarrassed. 


406  THE  MASSARENES. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  Lord  Hurstmanceaux,"  she  said 
coldly.  "  Would  not  the  solicitors  have  done  equally 
well?" 

"  No,"  said  Hurstmanceaux — his  voice  was  harsh  and 
unsteady.  "  I  venture  to  beg  of  you  not  to  make  my 
errand  known  to  your  solicitors." 

She  was  silent;  she  sat  down  and  motioned  to  him  to 
do  the  same,  but  he  remained  standing. 

"  You  sent  me  a  letter  from  your  late  father — Mr. 
Massarene  ?  "  he  said — his  voice  seemed  strangled  in  his 
throat. 

"  I  enclosed  one  some  time  ago,  yes." 

"  I  have  onl}r  now  received  it.  I  have  been  away 
yachting.  Nothing  was  forwarded."  His  words  came 
with  difficulty ;  he  spoke  like  a  man  to  whom  what  he  is 
obliged  to  say  is  torture. 

"It  does  not  concern  me,"  she  said  coldly.  "I  have 
no  wish  to  know  what  it  contained." 

"You  must  know,"  said  Ronald.  "It  contained  a 
signature  of  my  sister  of  Otterbourne,  who,  it  appears 
from  another  paper  enclosed  with  it,  owed  to  your  father 
the  enormous  sum  of  twelve  thousand  pounds." 

Katherine  was  silent :  she  thought  that  probably  the 
Duchess  of  Otterbourne  had  owed  very  much  more  than 
that  to  her  father. 

Hurstmanceoux  breathed  heavily  :  he  was  overwhelmed 
with  shame  at  what  he  was  forced  to  say. 

"Apparently,"  he  continued,  "she  owed  this  amount 
to  Beaumont,  the  jeweler  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  Your 
father  sent  me  Beaumont's  receipt  to  him,  and  my  sisters 
acknowledgment  of  her  debt  to  him,  for  the  pa}rment  to 
Beaumont.  She  is  now  in  Norway  with  the  Bassenth- 
waites ;  but  the  two  signatures  make  the  matter  quite 
clear.  There  is  no  necessity  for  any  inquiry." 

He  paused,  struggling  with  an  emotion  which  he  feared 
would  get  the  better  of  his  manhood. 

Katherine  saw  that,  and  it  affected  her  keenly. 

"  He  sent  you  those  signatures  !  "  she  said,  as  a  sense 
of  her  father's  cruelty  dawned  on  her.  "  What  a  brutal, 
what  an  infamous  thing  to  do !  What  a  message  from 
the  grave ! " 


THE  'MASSARENE8.  407 

"  Mr.  Massarene  was  quite  within  his  rights,"  said 
Ronald  stiffly :  "  wholly  within  them.  As  my  sister's 
husband  is  dead,  I  am  the  person  to  whom  her  creditors 
should  apply.  I  blame  him  for  lending  her  such  a  sum, 
without  my  knowledge,  in  his  lifetime.  It  is  impossible 
to  say  to  you  what  I  suffer  in  finding  her — in  finding 
her " 

His  voice  broke  down ;  for  an  instant  he  walked  away 
to  the  window  nearest  him,  and  looked  out  in  silence. 

Katherine  did  not  reply. 

She  was  thinking  of  the  many  times,  in  her  father's 
private  account-books,  in  which  Lady  Kenilworth's  name 
was  written,  the  many  slips  in  the  old  check-books  in 
which  there  was  also  written,  in  her  father's  hand  : 
"  Drawn  self:  passed  to  Lady  K." 

What  could  she  say  ?  It  seemed  to  her  nothing,  yet 
she  felt  acute  sorrow  for  this  proud,  sensitive,  honorable 
gentleman,  who  had  the  cruel  humiliation  of  such  a  dis- 
covery and  such  a  confession,  after  all  his  pride,  his  scorn, 
and  his  avoidance  of  her  and  of  her  parents. 

In  another  moment  he  turned  back  from  the  window 
and  walked  toward  her. 

"  I  came  to  ask  you,  if  you  can,  not  to  let  your  men  of 
business  know  of  this,"  he  said  more  calmly.  "  I  do  not 
think  there  is  any  necessity  for  them  to  know.  I  regret 
unspeakably  that  I  cannot  repay  this  sum  at  once,  but  I 
am  a  poor  man.  In  a  month's  time  I  hope  to  be  able  to 
do  so.  Meanwhile,  if  you  can  keep  my  sister's  wretched 
secret,  I  shall  be  very  grateful  to  you." 

Katherine  rose  and  looked  at  him,  with  some  indigna- 
tion and  much  sympathy  shining  in  her  large  dark  eyes. 

"  Do  you  think,  because  I  am  his  daughter,  that  I  have 
neither  decency  nor  honor?  Do  not  take  this  matter  so 
deeply  to  heart.  If  my  father  lent  the  duchess  money, 
she  was,  on  her  part,  of  great  use  to  him.  He  owed  his 
social  position  almost  entirely  to  her  assistance.  I  grieve 
more  than  I  can  say  that  he  should  have  stabbed  you  from 
his  grave  like  this.  Nor  can  I  imagine  why  he  did  so, 
unless  to  avenge  himself  for  your  persistent  refusal  to  be 
acquainted  with  us  ;  a  mean  motive,  indeed,  if  it  was  his 
motive.  Pray  believe  me,  Lord  Hurstmanceaux.  You* 


408  TEE  HASSARENES. 

sister's  name  is  safe  for  ever  with  me ;  and  as  for  repaying 
this  money,  do  not  think  of  it.  The  debt  is  not  yours." 

"  Of  my  payment  of  it  there  must  be  no  dispute,"  said 
Ronald  quickly.  "  It  was  a  strictly  business  matter. 
Your  father  was  a  business  man.  I  would  not  ask  even  a 
day's  delay  were  I  not  forced.  I  thank  you  for  your 
promise  of  silence  ;  it  is  more  than  I  have  deserved." 

He  tried  to  put  the  matter  on  a  business  footing,  to 
endeavor  to  treat  his  sister's  receipt  of  money  from  Mas- 
sarene  as  though  it  had  been  a  mere  affair  of  agreement 
and  mutual  interest ;  but  he  was  too  frank  to  play  a  part, 
and  he  was  conscious  that  he  showed  the  shame,  the  dis- 
gust, the  loathing  which  he  felt  for  the  false  position  of  a 
woman  so  near  to  him. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  money  to  me,"  said  Katherine,  with 
an  intensity  of  feeling  which  surprised  him,  "I  have 
passed  nearly  every  day  since  my  father's  death  in  seeing 
how  the  riches  he  loved  were  put  together.  I  loathe  so 
utterly  all  he  has  left  to  me,  that  I  envy  every  work-girl 
who  sews  for  daily  bread  in  her  garret.  You  said  rightly 
on  the  road  in  Woldshire  that  such  a  fortune  as  ours  is 
only  amassed  by  wickedness,  and  cruelty,  and  fraud.  If  I 
could  cast  it  from  me  as  a  toad  its  skin,  I  would  not  pause 
a  moment  before  I  did  so,  and  fled  from  it  for  ever." 

She  was  carried  out  of  herself  by  the  forces  of  feeling, 
which,  for  an  instant,  broke  down  her  reserve,  and  hurried 
her  into  eloquent  and  unstudied  speech. 

Hurstmanceaux,  at  any  other  time,  would  have  been 
moved  to  sympathy  with  her ;  but  now  he  was  too  ab- 
sorbed in  his  own  humiliation  and  pain  to  have  any  per- 
ception of  hers. 

"  You  will  soon  get  reconciled  to  your  burden,  madam," 
he  said,  with  a  slight  and  bitter  smile.  "Do  not  fear. 
The  world  will  help  you  to  get  rid  of  it.  Allow  me  once 
more  to  thank  you  for  your  promise  of  silence.  I  am 
conscious  that  both  I  and  she  are  unworthy  of  your  clem- 
ency." 

gathering's  soul  shrank  within  her.  She  felt  all  the 
recoil,  the  embarrassment,  the  revulsion  of  feeling  of  a 
reserved  nature,  which  has  unbent  and  revealed  itself,  and 
finds  its  expansion  unresponded  to  and  misunderstoodo 


THE  MASSAHENES.  409 

She  felt  that  he  did  not  believe  in  what  she  had  said  in 
the  least. 

"  You  have  not  heard  your  sister's  defence,"  she  said, 
after  a  pause. 

"My  sister's  fables?  I  do  not  want  to  hear  them.  Her 
signature  speaks  for  her.  Besides,  I  can  have  the  whole 
facts  of  the  transaction  from  the  jeweler.  No  ingenuity 
of  hers  can  ever  explain  them  away." 

"  You  are  very  harsh." 

"  I  am  far  from  harsh.  And  of  my  harshness  or  my 
mildness  you  cannot  be  the  judge." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  you  are  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  knew 
nothing  of  honor,  or  of  its  exactions,  and  that  instinct  is 
not  acquired  in  a  single  generation." 

"  Have  twenty-three  generations  of  nobility  bequeathed 
it  to  your  sister  ?  "  was  the  retort  which  sprang  to  her 
lips,  but  she  generously  and  valorously  kept  it  unspoken. 

Her  white  skin  flushed  hotly  and  painfully  at  the  insult, 
which  was  to  her  what  a  blow  would  have  been  to  a  man. 

She  did  not  resent,  but  she  suffered  intensely.  What 
he  had  said  was  so  completely  the  reflection  of  her  own 
feelings  that  it  seemed  to  burn  itself  into  her  brain  like  a 
branding-iron. 

Oh,  to  have  come  of  some  stainless  and  valiant  race, 
with  traditions  of  a  past  great  and  pure  !  What  she 
would  have  given  for  that  heritage  of  barren  honor, 
which  would  have  been,  in  her  keeping,  virgin  and  puis- 
sant, as  a  kingdom  guarded  against  every  foe  I 

For  an  instant  she  was  tempted  to  go  and  unlock  the 
drawer  in  which  all  the  memoranda  of  his  sister's  other 
debts  were  lying,  and  put  them  before  him  and  say: 
"  Did  a  thousand  years  of  nobility  teach  honor  and 
honesty  to  her  ?  "  But  she  resisted  the  temptation. 

He  was  humiliated  and  embittered,  and  this  insolence 
of  his  speech  was,  she  thought,  to  be  forgiven  to  him. 
She  said  nothing  in  protest  or  defence ;  but  there  was 
that  in  her  expression  which  touched  him  to  repentance 
for  his  utterance.  He  felt  that  she  had  deserved  better 
at  his  hands,  though  he  could  not  bend  his  pride  to  say  so. 

He  was  silent  some  moments,  so  was  she — a  silence  of 


410  THE  MASSARENES. 

pain  and  of  embarrassment.      At  length,   with  a  great 
effort,  he  forced  himself  to  say  to  her  : 

"  I  should  not  have  said  that.  I  beg  your  pardon.  It 
was  offensive." 

She  made  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  as  if  to  ac- 
cept the  apology. 

1      "  You  said  what  is  generally  true,  I  believe.    But  there 
may  be  exceptions." 

His  apology  could  not  efface  the  impression  of  his 
speech,  which  seemed  like  vitriol  thrown  in  her  face. 
The  impression  of  pain  which  his  speech  left  on  her  was 
so  poignant  that  she  felt  as  if  it  would  never  pass  away. 

He  was  violently  and  bitterly  prejudiced  against  her ; 
he  was  incapable  of  being  just  to  her;  she  seemed  to  him 
steeped  in  the  villainy  of  all  that  ill-gotten  gold  in  which 
she  had  her  being ;  but  he  could  not  but  acknowledge  the 
dignity  and  simplicity  of  her  attitude  under  insult,  and 
he  was  conscious  that  he  had  insulted  her  grossly.  After 
all,  the  disgrace  of  his  sister  wras  no  fault  of  hers. 

She  might  be  wholly  in  earnest  when  she  said  that  she 
abhorred  the  wealth  of  which  she  was  the  sole  possessor. 
He  was  tempted  to  believe  that  she  was  entirely  sincere ; 
but  she  was  the  daughter  of  William  Massarene.  She 
was  anathema  maranatha. 

She  bowed  to  suggest  to  him  that  his  interview  had 
lasted  long  enough. 

"  Good-day  to  you,"  she  said  coldly. 

"Good-day,"  repeated  Hurstmanceaux.  "In  a  month's 
time  you  will  hear  from  me.  Meanwhile,  forget  if  you  can." 

Then  he  left  the  library* 

She  remained  standing  beside  the  heavy  table  laden 
with  choice  octavos  and  the  reviews  of  the  month. 

She  had  been  tempted  out  of  her  habitual  silence,  and 
had  opened  a  little  window  into  her  heart.  And  she  re- 
gretted that  she  had  done  so,  as,  alas !  we  always  do;  for 
there  is  nothing  which  we  regret  so  bitterly,  and  pay  for 
so  heavily,  as  the  confidence  we  give.  She  was  vexed 
with  herself,  also,  that  she  had  dismissed  him  so  soon  and 
so  abruptly,  that  she  had  not  endeavored  to  atone  for 
that  brutal  action  after  death,  that  cruel  legacy  which  her 
father  had  left  in  vengeance.  She  felt  that  he  would  pay 


THE  MA8SAEEN&&.  411 

the  money  back,  if  to  do  so  he  had  to  sell  every  rood  of 
land  he  possessed,  and  she  hated  herself  for  having  sent 
him,  however  innocently  on  her  part,  that  barbed  legacy 
of  the  dead.  She  understood  how  deep  a  wound  it  must 
have  given  to  a  man  of  the  principles,  the  temperament, 
and  the  pride  of  Hurstmanceaux. 

"  But  he  is  unjust  to  me — unjust  and  hard  !  "  she  said 
half  aloud,  in  her  solitude. 

Meanwhile  he,  who  had  only  returned  to  London  an 
hour  previously,  took  the  tidal  train  to  Paris,  where  he 
went  forthwith  to  Beaumont. 

"What  would  you,  milord  ?"  said  Beaumont  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  "  Madame  la  duchesse  sent  that  old, 
fat,  common  man  to  pay  in  her  name,  and  he  paid.  It 
was  no  matter  to  me  who  paid.  I  wanted  my  money 
back.  Yes ;  I  lent  it  on  the  big  jewel  and  the  others. 
Illegal!  Oh,  ta-ta-ta,  milord!  Of  course  all  dealings 
with  those  pretty  married  ladies  are  great  risks.  We 
know  that  in  business.  That  is  why  I  was  anxious  to  get 
back  my  money.  If  I  had  not  had  it,  I  should  have  gone 
to  law.  Perhaps  my  title  to  it  was  unsound,  as  you  say. 
Perhaps  it  was.  But  madame,  votre  sceur^  had  had  the 
money  from  me — she  could  not  have  denied  that  in  a  law 
court — and  great  families  do  not  like  scandals  which 
touch  them.  Ah,  no,  milord  !  noblesse  oblige  we  know  !  " 

And  Beaumont  smiled  softly,  with  a  very  sweet,  sub- 
ironic,  inflection  of  the  voice,  as  he  sat  handling  some 
uncut  stones  in  his  bureau  which  looked  on  the  garden. 

From  him  Hurstmanceaux  obtained  the  certainty  of 
what  he  had  suspected  from  the  moment  that  he  had  re- 
ceived Massarene's  posthumous  letter  :  that  his  sister  had 
not  had  the  Otterbourne  jewels  in  her  possession  when  he 
had  asked  her  for  them. 

Heaven  and  earth !  the  duplicity  of  women  ! — he 
thought  as  he  passed  along  the  sunny  Paris  streets  with  a 
heart  as  heavy  as  lead  in  his  breast.  His  sister,  his  blue- 
eyed  Sourisette,  his  favorite  from  her  nursery  days,  was 
no  better  than  a  thief !  No  better  than  any  wretched 
woman  of  the  streets  whose  souteneur  might  strike  him 
with  a  knife  in  the  gloaming  that  evening! 

From  Beaumont's  he  went  to  Boussod  et  Valadoirs, 


412  THE  MASSARENES. 

and  after  an  interview  with  that  famous  firm,  returned  to 
his  favorite  place  of  Faldon,  where  he  had  a  small  col- 
lection of  old  Flemish  and  Dutch  pictures  brought  to- 
gether in  the  previous  century  by  his  great-grandfather. 
They  were  not  in  the  entail,  and  he  had  always  been  at 
liberty  to  sell  them,  but  he  had  never  been  tempted  to  do 
so,  for  he  was  attached  to  the  paintings  and  he  liked  to 
see  them  hanging  in  the  oval  room  with  a  north  light, 
where  they  had  been  for  over  a  hundred  years.  He  ab- 
horred selling  things,  all  his  economies  had  been  effected 
without  selling  anything  :  only  by  refraining  from  buy- 
ing, which  is  an  unpopular  method.  Dilettanti  and  deal- 
ers had  all  alike  hinted  to  him  that  those  pictures  were 
worth  a  great  deal,  and  that  it  was  a  pity  to  keep  them  in 
a  secluded  country  place  on  the  edge  of  the  Atlantic. 
But  he  had  always  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  such  suggestions. 

Now,  he  said  to  himself,  the  pictures  must  go.  He  had 
nothing  else  in  his  possession  which  would  fetch  a  tenth 
part  of  his  sister's  debt  to  William  Massarene.  He  was 
even  afraid  that  the  pictures  would  fail  to  realize  the 
whole  amount.  But  he  asked  for  that  amount  and  after 
some  demur  the  price  was  accepted,  the  pictures  were 
well  known,  and  the  money  would  be  paid  down,  on  their 
delivery  in  Ireland,  to  the  agent  of  the  great  Paris  house. 

It  was  a  matter  easily  concluded ;  but  one  which  cut 
him  to  the  quick. 

However  rapidly  and  privately  it  had  been  arranged 
the  facts  of  the  sale  would  not,  he  knew,  be  kept  out  of 
the  newspapers.  Paragraphs  would  appear  in  all  the 
social  and  artistic  journals  to  the  effect  that  Lord  Hurst- 
manceaux  had  sold  his  Dutch  and  Flemish  collections  of 
petits  maltres. 

Every  misfortune  is  nowadays  doubled  and  trebled  by 
the  publicity  given  to  it  in  the  press,  which  turns  the 
knife  in  our  wounds  and  pours  petroleum  on  our  burning 
roof-tree.  He  would  also  be  unable  to  explain  to  his 
friends  why  he  sold  them.  He  would  appear  like  any 
other  of  the  spendthrifts  and  idiots  who  sent  to  the  ham- 
mer their  libraries  and  pictures.  No  pressure  would  ever 
have  forced  him  to  make  such  a  sale  for  his  own  pleasures 
or  his  own  necessities. 


THE  MASSARENES.  413 

To  a  sensitive  and  proud  man  the  comment  which  it 
would  excite  was  worse  to  endure  than  all  the  blows  of 
adversity. 

"  So  you  have  sold  your  pictures  after  all !  "  a  thousand 
tongues  would  say  to  him  ;  and  society  would  say  that 
Ronnie  had  become  like  other  people  at  last. 

They  are  so  silly,  so  unutterably  silly,  those  flippant 
sneers  of  our  acquaintances,  and  yet  they  irritate  and 
wound  like  mosquitoes. 

But  he  accepted  these  inevitable  consequences  and  he 
went  to  Faldon,  and  saw  them  packed  with  his  own  eyes, 
and  with  his  own  hands  placed  in  its  wooden  case  with 
tender  care  a  little  flaxen-haired  maiden  spinning,  of  Mieris, 
which  when  he  had  been  a  child  he  had  always  called  the 
portrait  of  his  wife. 

It  was  a  cruel  sacrifice  to  an  unworthy  object  when  the 
pictures  went  from  their  places,  and  the  red  sunset  light 
coming  over  the  Atlantic  billows  shone  on  the  blank  walls 
from  which  they  had  been  torn. 

Truly  have  the  Rosny  spoken  of  the  semi-Jiumanite  des 
choses  !  the  sympathetic  companionship  which  we  feel  in 
those  cherished  things  of  our  homes,  wound  as  they  are 
about  the  roots  of  our  fondest  memories,  of  our  longest 
associations. 

Two  days  later  Katherine  Massarene  received  a  check 
on  Coutts's,  signed  Hurstmanceaux,  for  the  amount  which 
her  father  had  paid  the  jeweler  plus  the  interest  at  five 
per  cent,  for  two  years. 

It  was  enclosed  with  the  compliments  of  the  sender.  A 
week  later  she  saw  in  an  art  journal  the  announcement  of 
the  sale,  to  the  Paris  dealers,  of  the  Dutch  and  Flemish 
collection  of  Faldon  Castle. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  if  her  father's  spirit  rose  from  the 
tomb  in  malignant  power  for  evil. 

She  put  the  check  in  one  of  the  iron  safes  in  the  little 
study  and  turned  the  key  on  it. 

He  might  send  her  the  money  in  what  way  he  would. 
He  could  not  make  her  take  it.  But  she  had  forgotten 
that  this  stubbornness  might  equal,  and  even  exceed  her 
own. 


414  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IN  the  month  of  August  Lord  Roxhall,  who  was  at 
Arcachon  with  his  wife,  ostensibly  for  health,  in  reality  to 
cut  short  the  expenses  of  a  season  in  town,  received 
amongst  his  correspondence  a  letter  in  a  black-edged  en- 
velope addressed  in  a  clear  firm  handwriting  which  was 
unknown  to  him,  and  bearing  the  postmark  of  his  own 
country  town,  that  town  which  William  Massarene's  fu- 
neral had  recently  passed  through  in  such  pomp  and  glory. 

The  letter  astonished  him,  and  he  read  it  twice,  incred- 
ulous of  its  meaning  and  wondering  vaguely  if  it  were 
genuine. 

It  was  dated  from  Vale  Royal  and  worded  thus : 

"  MY  DEAK  LORD  ROXHALL, 

"  Pardon  me  that  I  have  not  earlier  replied  to  your  very 
kind  letter  of  condolence  on  the  terrible  death  of  my  father. 
Under  his  will  I  unfortunately  become  sole  owner  of  all  he 
possessed.  He  purchased  this  estate  of  Vale  Eoyal  of  you,  and 
I  inherit  it  with  the  rest.  I  do  not  think  we  have  done  any 
harm  here  ;  we  have  perhaps  done  some  material  good,  but  the 
people  on  the  estate  dislike  us  and  despise  us.  I  quite  under- 
stand and  do  not  blame  their  feeling.  I  like  and  respect  it. 
They  are  as  faithful  to  you  as  Highlanders  to  Charles  Edward. 
I  cannot  remain  here,  for  neither  my  mother  nor  I  care  to  re- 
side amongst  a  justly  disaffected  population.  My  poor  father 
bought  your  estate  at  a  fair  price  no  doubt ;  but  it  will  never 
be  morally  or  righteously  ours.  There  are  some  things  of 
which  no  amount  of  money  can  legalize  the  sale  to  a  sensitive 
conscience.  Will  you  do  me  a  favor?  Will  you  buy  it  back  ? 
/  should  only  require  half  the  purchase-money,  aud  should  be 
much  obliged  to  you  to  let  the  other  half  remain  on  mortgage 
on  the  estate.  I  believe  the  value  of  land  is  decreased  since  he 
bought  it,  and  of  course  you  would  have  a  valuation  taken.  Or 
I  should  be  happy  to  comply  with  any  other  conditions  which 
might  be  more  suitable  to  you.  In  any  way  if  you  will  take  it 
off  my  hands  as  soon  as  the  law  permits  me  to  dispose  of  it,  1 
shall  be  greatly  indebted  and  relieved  of  a  heavy  burden  ;  for 
no  one  can  do  any  good  on  a  property  where  all  the  occupants 


THE  MASSARENES.  415 

tf  the  soil  are  their  enemies.     So  entirely  is  my  mother,  as  well 
as  myself,  convinced  of  this  fact  that  we  shall  leave  the  place, 
never  to  return  to  it,  in  a  few  days'  time,  and  the  house  will 
remain  closed.     I  hope  that  you  will  before  long  go  back  to  it. 
"  I  remain,  sincerely  yours, 

"  KATHEKINE  MASSARENE." 


He  was  breakfasting  under  the  pine  trees,  his  wife  was 
opposite  to  him  at  a  small  round  table.  The  letter  aston- 
ished him  and  affected  him,  he  discerned  the  generosity 
which  was  ill-concealed  under  its  effort  to  make  the  offer 
seem  to  the  advantage  of  the  writer.  When  he  had  pon- 
dered over  it  for  some  minutes  he  passed  it  over  the  table 
to  his  companion. 

"  She  would  give  it  to  us  if  she  dared,"  he  said  as  his 
wife  took  it.  She  read  it  quickly  at  a  glance,  as  women 
do  read,  and  looked  up,  the  color  rising  in  her  face,  her 
eyes  radiant  with  hope. 

"  Oh,  Gerald  !     Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  care  so  much  ?  "  said  Roxhall ;  his  own  voice 
was  unsteady. 

Lady  Roxhall  leaned  her  elbow  on  the  table  and  covered 
her  eyes  with  her  hand  to  hide  her  emotion  from  the 
passers-by  in  the  hotel  garden. 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  all  I  have  suffered ;  I  tried  to 
conceal  it ;  if  it  were  only  to  have  left  the  grave  of  Lillias 
to  strangers " 

"  You  good  little  thing,  to  have  been  so  silent !  "  said 
Roxhall,  touched  and  grateful. 

"  Shall  we  go  back,  Gerald  ?  "  his  wife  murmured,  her 
heart  beating  with  mingled  fear  and  hope. 

"  I  think  I  could  do  it,'1  answered  Roxhall.  "  At  least, 
if  it  is  fair  to  take  her  offer.  One  must  not  come  over 
this  young  woman  because  she  is  generous.  Yes ;  I  think 
with  great  pinching  we  could  do  it." 

"I  would  live  on  bread  and  water  all  my  life  to  go 
back ! "  said  his  wife  with  a  force  he  had  never  known  in 
her. 

"  I  ought  never  to  have  sold  it,"  said  Roxhall,  his 
thoughts  reverting  to  his  cousiifs  wiles.  He  took  up  the 
letter  and  read  it  again. 


41(3  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  She  would  like  to  give  it  to  us,"  he  said  a  second  time. 
"  How  very  odd  that  such  an  unutterable  cad  as  that  man 
Massarene  was  should  have  such  a  daughter.  I  think  I 
had  better  go  to  London  to-night  and  see  our  lawyers.  I 
will  get  the  old  place  back  somehow,  if  it's  fair  to  her." 

"  Yes,  one  must  be  fair  to  her,"  said  his  wife,  and  added 
with  remorse,  "  And  to  think  how  rude  I  have  always 
been  to  her !  I  turned  my  back  on  them  all  three  at  the 
late  State  concert,  just  a  week  before  the  man  was  assas- 
sinated." 

Roxhall  laughed  and  got  up  to  go  and  look  at  the  rail- 
way time-table,  and  she  rose  too,  and  to  avoid  her  many 
acquaintances  went  to  walk  by  herself  in  the  woods  and 
commune  with  her  own  heart,  and  her  longing  to  return  to 
Vale  Royal,  and  her  wistful  memories  of  her  little  dead 
child,  Lillias.  She  was  a  gentle,  brave,  tender-hearted 
woman  who  had  suffered  much  and  concealed  her  suffer- 
ings courageously  from  both  her  husband  and  her  world. 

At  the  end  of  that  month  Katherine  Massarene  had 
ceased  for  a  time  her  painful  self-imposed  task  and  gone 
down  to  Bournemouth,  where  she  had  taken  a  house  for 
the  autumn  and  winter;  a  villa  in  a  pine -wood  which 
looked  on  to  the  sea.  It  was  a  pretty  place  but  to  her 
mother  it  seemed  a  poor  nutshell  after  the  spaciousness 
and  splendor  of  Harrenden  House  and  Vale  Royal.  The 
diminished  establishment,  the  comparatively  empty  stables, 
the  loss  of  Richemont  and  his  satellites,  were  at  once  a 
relief  and  an  offence  to  her. 

"  One  would  think  poor  William  had  been  sold  up  and 
we  was  livin'  on  my  savings,"  she  said  in  indignation. 

"  My  dear  mother,  you  could  not  keep  up  this  place 
under  three  thousand  a  year,"  said  her  daughter. 

"  And  what's  that  to  us  as  had  millions  ?  "  asked  her 
mother. 

Katherine  thought  of  the  primary  plank  hut  at  Kerosene 
City,  but  she  saw  that  her  mother  was  in  no  mood  to  re- 
member those  primitive  times. 

The  Bournemouth  residence  was  really  pretty  and  had 
a  simple  elegance  in  it  which  was  due  to  a  great  painter 
whose  whim  and  pleasure  it  had  been ;  and  it  was  a  fitting 
retreat  for  two  women  in  deep  mourning.  But  Margaret 


THE  MASSAEENES.  417 

Massarene  chose  to  consider  it  as  a  mixture  of  workhouse 
and  prison.  Her  fretfulness  and  incessant  lamentation 
made  her  companionship  very  trying,  for  it  was  the  kind 
of  obstinate  discontent  with  which  no  arguments  can 
struggle  with  any  chance  of  success.  One  fine  dim  balmy 
morning,  when  the  smell  of  the  sea  blended  strongly  with 
the  scent  from  the  pine-woods,  Katherine  was  alone  in  the 
large  room  which  had  been  the  painter's  studio  and  was 
now  set  aside  for  her  own  use,  reading  the  still  volumi- 
nous correspondence  from  her  agents  and  solicitors.  A 
young  footman,  who  had  not  the  perfect  training  which 
Mr.  Winter  had  exacted  in  his  underlings,  opened  the 
door  and  ushered  in  unannounced  a  tall  fair  man,  who 
stood  in  hesitation  on  the  threshold.  "  Lord  Hurstman- 
ceaux,  ma'am,"  said  the  young  servant,  and  shut  the  door 
behind  the  visitor's  back. 

Katherine  looked  up  from  her  heavily-laden  writing- 
table,  and  was  vexed  to  feel  that  she  changed  color. 

"  My  mother  and  I  do  not  receive "  she  said  with 

some  embarrassment. 

Hurstmanceaux  came  across  the  room  and  stood  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table. 

"  You  have  not  drawn  the  check  which  I  sent  to  you 
on  Coutts's,"  he  said  abruptly. 

She  answered  merely  "  No." 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Because  I  do  not  choose  to  take  that  money." 

Hurstmariceaux's  face  grew  red  and  very  stern. 

"  You  insult  me,  Miss  Massarene." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  do  so,"  said  Katherine  gently.  "  I 
begged  you  not  to  send  it  to  me.  My  father,  I  am  certain, 
never  expected  the  duchess  to  repay  it." 

"  That  is  very  singular  language.  Do  you  mean  that 
your  father  was  on  terms  with  my  sister  which  would 
justify  him  in  making  her  such  gifts  ?  " 

She  was  silent ;  that  was  her  meaning  but  she  could  not 
say  so. 

"  If  you  do  think  it,  you  must  cease  to  think  it,"  said 
Ronald.  "If  there  were  any  man  in  your  family— 

Katherine  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Pray  do  not  let  the  fact  of  my  sex  influence  you.    I 

27 


418  THE  MASSAEENES. 

dare  say  I  have  many  male  relatives,  but  they  are,  I  be« 
lieve,  navvies,  and  colliers,  and  laborers,  and  the  like,  who 
would  not  be  foemen  worthy  of  your  patrician  steel.'* 

She  spoke  with  a  certain  cold  and  careless  contempt 
which  brought  the  blood  to  his  cheeks. 

"  You  have  full  right  to  condemn  my  sister,  but  not  to 
suppose  what  you  do  not  know,"  he  said  with  some  em- 
barrassment. "  The  debt  was  a  matter  of  business,  as  a 
matter  of  business  I  treat  it,  arid  refund  the  money  to 
you,  who  are  the  sole  living  representative  of  the  dead 
creditor." 

"There  are  many  debts  due  to  him.  I  have  cancelled 
them  all.  They  are  all  due  from  persons  of  your  great 
world.  He  thought  their  suffrages  worth  buying.  I  do  not. 
And  I  think  the  people  who  sell  oranges  and  apples  in 
the  streets  are  superior  to  those  who  sell  their  prestige, 
their  patronage,  or  their  company." 

Hurstmanceaux  winced  as  he  heard  her,  like  a  high- 
mettled  horse  flicked  with  the  whip. 

"I  am  wholly  of  your  opinion,"  he  said  coldly.  "But 
in  this  instance  the  debt  is  paid  so  far  as  a  debt  ever  can 
be ;  and  you  are  bound  to  take  the  payment  of  it.  You 
are  not  bound  to  preserve  silence  on  the  matter,  but  if 
you  do  so  you  will  make  me  grateful." 

"  I  have  told  you  that  you  may  be  certain  of  my  silence," 
she  said,  with  some  impatience.  "That  is  elementary 
honor  which  even  I,  low  born  as  I  am,  can  understand ! " 

"  Honor  does  not  require  silence  of  you,"  said  Hurst- 
manceaux. "  But  such  silence  will  be  a  charity  to  us." 

"  Call  it  what  you  will,"  she  replied  curtly,  "you  may 
count  on  it." 

"If  you  are  a  gentlewoman,  madam,"  he  added,  in  his 
coldest  and  most  courteous  manner,  "  you  must  also  under- 
stand that  you  render  my  position  insupportable  unless 
you  accept  that  money." 

She  did  not  immediately  reply.  She  had  not  thought 
of  the  matter  from  his  point  of  view.  She  reflected  a 
little  while,  not  looking  at  him,  then  she  said,  briefly: 

"  Very  well.     It  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said,  with  embarrassment;  and  after 
a  pause  added,  "I  thank  you  exceedingly."  Then  he 


THE  MASSARENES.  410 

bowed  distantly,  and  left  her  without  any  additional 
words. 

She  sat  in  the  same  place  for  many  minutes  looking  out 
over  the  grey  sea  which  gleamed  between  the  stems  of  the 
pines.  Then  she  rose  and  went  to  a  dispatch-box,  in 
which  she  had  placed  all  his  sister's  letters  to  her  father, 
all  proof  of  sums  received  by  her,  and  all  William  Mas- 
sarene's  counterfoils  of  checks  passed  to  her,  and  also  the 
worthless  bills  of  Cocky. 

She  put  all  these  together  in  a  large  envelope,  sealed  it 
carefully,  and  sent  it  registered  to  the  Duchess  of  Otter- 
bourne  at  the  post  office  of  Bergen,  where  she  knew  that 
the  steam-yacht  in  which  that  lady  had  gone  to  Norway 
was  at  anchor. 

She  thus  put  it  out  of  her  own  power  for  ever,  and  out 
of  the  power  of  any  who  might  come  after  her,  to  prove 
the  shame  of  Hurstmanceaux's  best-beloved  sister.  "  He 
will  never  be  dishonored  through  us,"  she  thought. 

The  voice  of  her  mother  startled  her  and  jarred  on  her. 

"That's  a  handsome  man  as  is  gone  oat  just  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Massarene.  "'Tis  the  duchess's  brother,  ain't  it?" 

Katherine  assented. 

"  He's  his  sister's  good  looks,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene. 
"But  he  never  would  know  poor  William.  May  one  ask 
what  he  come  about,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Only  some  business  of  his  sister's,"  replied  her  daugb 
ter. 

"  He  was  always  mighty  high,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene. 
"  I  hope  you're  stand  off  too.  Let  him  feel  as  you're  your 
father's  daughter." 

Katherine  shuddered  in  the  warm,  pine-scented,  sea- 
impregnated  air. 

Mrs.  Massarene,  since  the  tyranny  under  which  she  had 
been  repressed  so  long  had  been  removed  from  her,  was  a 
more  self-asserting  and  self -satisfied  person.  Her  deep 
crape  garments  lent  her  in  her  own  eyes  majesty  and  im- 
portance, despite  the  slur  which  the  will  had  cast  upon 
her.  She  was  William's  widow,  a  position  which  seemed 
to  her  second  to  none  in  distinction.  Death  did  for  her 
lost  spouse  in  her  eyes  what  it  often  does  for  the  dead  with 
tender-hearted  survivors ;  it  made  his  cruelties  dim  and 


420  THE  MASSARENES. 

distant,  it  made  his  memory  something  which  his  life  cer* 
tainly  had  never  been.  That  burial  by  peers  and  princes 
had  been  as  a  cloud  of  incense  which  was  for  ever  rising 
about  his  manes.  Royalty  would  not  have  sent  even  its 
youngest  and  smallest  officer  of  the  Household  to  repre- 
sent it  at  any  funeral  which  had  not  been  the  wake  of  all 
the  virtues.  Those  towering  heaps  of  wreaths  had  been 
in  her  view  as  a  cairn  burying  out  of  sight  all  her  hus- 
band's misdeeds  and  brutalities. 

As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  Daddy  Gwyllian,  who  was 
staying  at  Cowes,  crossed  over  to  Bournemouth  that 
morning  to  see  an  invalid  friend.  He  was  sauntering 
along  in  his  light  grey  clothes,  his  straw  hat,  and  his 
yachting  shoes,  when  as  he  passed  the  garden  gateway  of 
the  villa  which  Mrs.  Massarene  had  hired,  he  encountered 
Ronald  coming  out  of  it. 

"Ah!  dear  boy,"  he  cried,  in  his  pleasantest  manner. 
"Making  it  up  with  the  heiress,  eh?  Quite  right.  Quite 
right.  Pity  you've  been  so  stiff-necked  about  it  all  these 
years. " 

Hurstmanceaux  was  extremely  annoyed  at  this  undesir- 
able meeting.  But  he  had  nothing  that  he  could  say 
which  would  not  have  made  matters  worse. 

"  Where  did  you  spring  from,  Daddy  ? "  he  said  im- 
patiently. "  You  are  always  appearing  like  a  Jack  in  a 
box." 

"I  make  it  a  rule  to  be  where  my  richest  and  laziest 
fellow-creatures  most  congregate,"  replied  Daddy.  "  And 
that  in  the  month  of  August  is  the  Solent.  But  come, 
Ronnie,  let  out  a  bit ;  you  know  I'm  a  very  old  friend. 
What  are  you  doing  down  here  if  you're  not  paying  court 
to  Miss  Massarene  ?  " 

"  I  am  certainly  not  paying  court  to  Miss  Massarene," 
replied  Hurstmanceaux,  very  distantly.  "I  was  obliged 
to  see  her  on  business." 

"Ah!  Business  is  a  very  good  ante-chamber  to  mar- 
riage," said  Daddy,  with  a  chuckle. 

"It  may  be.     I  remain  in  the  ante-chamber." 

"  Tut,  tut !  Of  course  you  say  so.  You  are  really  be- 
coming like  other  people,  Ronnie.  I  see  you  have  sold 
your  pictures  I  " 


THE  MASSARENES.  42J 

"  Is  that  anyone's  affair  but  mine  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  think  so.  A  sale  is  everybody's  affair. 
There's  nothing  sacred  about  it.  I  always  told  you  they 
were  wasted  at  Faldon.  Nobody  saw  'em  but  spiders  and 
mice." 

Hurstmanceaux  was  silent. 

"  What  an  uncommunicative  beggar  he  is,"  thought 
Daddy.  "When  one  thinks  that  I've  known  him  ever 
since  he  was  in  knickerbockers  with  his  hair  down  to  his 
waist !  " 

"  Is  it  true  that  Roxhall  buys  back  Vale  Royal  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Ask  Roxhall,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  "  and  I  fear  I 
must  leave  you  now  and  walk  on  faster  to  the  station." 

But  Gwyllian  held  him  by  the  lappet  of  his  coat. 

"  They  do  say,"  he  whispered,  "  that  she's  almost  given 
it  to  him.  You  must  know.  Now  do  be  frank,  Ronnie." 

"  Frankness  does  not  necessitate  the  discussion  of  other 
people's  affairs.  Ask  Roxhall's  wife ;  she  is  at  Cowes ; 
or  go  in  and  ask  Miss  Massarene ;  you  know  her." 

He  disengaged  himself  with  some  difficulty  from  the 
clinging  hold  of  Gwyllian's  white  wrinkled  fingers,  and 
went  onward  to  the  station  to  go  to  Southampton,  where 
his  yawl  was  awaiting  him.  Daddy  looked  at  the  gate  of 
the  villa.  Should  he  ring  ?  No,  he  thought  not.  She 
was  an  unpleasant  woman  to  tackle,  hedgehoggy  and  im- 
penetrable ;  she  would  be  capable  of  saying  to  him,  as 
Hurstmanceaux  had  done,  that  Roxhall's  affairs  were  no 
business  of  his.  She  was  one  of  those  unnatural  and 
offensive  persons  who,  having  no  curiosity  themselves,  re- 
gard curiosity  in  others  without  sympathy,  and  even  with 
disapproval.  Daddy,  feeling  ill-used  and  aggrieved, 
turned  down  a  lane  bordered  by  rhododendrons  and 
eucalyptus,  and  went  to  lunch  with  his  sick  friend,  to 
whom  he  imparted  sotto  voce  the  fact  that  he  thought 
Ronald  would  come  round  and  marry  Miss  Massarene. 

"  He's  always  been  such  a  crank,"  added  Daddy.  "  But 
lie's  begun  to  sell.  That  looks  like  coming  to  his  senses 
—doing  like  other  people." 

"  It  is  certainly  doing  like  many  other  people,"  said  his 
sick  friend  with  a  sad  smile,  for  he  had  seen  his  own  col- 


422  THE  MA8SAEENES. 

lections  go  to  the  hammer.  When  Gwyllian,  a  few  hours 
later,  went  comfortably  back  over  the  water  in  a  steam- 
launch  to  East  Cowes,  he  reflected  as  he  glided  along  on 
what  he  had  heard.  Being  a  sagacious  person,  he  con- 
nected the  sale  of  the  Faldon  pictures  with  the  visit  to 
Katherine  Massarene.  "  He's  either  paying  some  debt  of 
his  sister's  or  he's  helping  Roxhall  to  buy  back  the  place. 
He's  such  a  confounded  fool,  he'd  give  his  head  away  ; 
and  I  dare  say  the  young  woman  is  sharp  about  money ; 
wouldn't  be  her  father's  daughter  if  she  wasn't.''  So  he 
came  very  nearly  to  the  truth  in  his  own  mind  as  he  sat 
in  the  launch,  whilst  it  wound  in  and  out  among  the  craft 
in  the  roads. 

It  was  no  business  of  his,  but  Daddy  Gwyllian  had 
always  found  that  guessing  what  hands  other  people  held 
was  the  most  amusing  way  of  playing  the  rubber  of  life ; 
at  least,  when  you  are  old,  and  only  a  looker-on  at  the 
tables. 

"  They  do  say  she's  almost  given  it  to  him."  The  words 
rang  in  Ronald's  ears  as  he  went  on  board  his  old  yawl, 
the  DiantliuS)  and  crossed  to  the  island.  Roxhall  had  not 
spoken  to  him  of  the  matter;  he  only  knew  what  was,  by 
that  time,  table-talk,  that  Vale  Royal  was  to  return  to  its 
original  owner  so  soon  as  the  law  permitted  Katherine 
Massarene  to  dispose  of  any  portion  of  her  inheritance. 
Meantime,  the  house  was  closed.  Roxhall  had  not  sought 
him  on  the  subject,  and  he  felt  that  if  they  discussed  it, 
they  would  probably  quarrel,  their  views  would  be  so 
different.  It  was  very  bitter  to  him  that  any  member  of 
his  family  should  again  be  indebted  to  the  Massarene  for- 
tune. It  seemed  as  if  the  very  stars  in  their  courses 
fought  against  his  will.  Why  had  not  Roxhall  simply  re- 
plied to  her  overtures,  as  he  himself  would  have  replied, 
that  the  sale  of  the  estates,  once  having  been  made,  could 
not  be  annulled  ? 

As  it  was,  all  the  world  was  talking  of  her  generosity. 
It  was  intolerable  !  She  had  meant  well,  no  doubt,  but 
Roxhall  should  have  taught  her,  as  he  had  taught  her, 
that  men  who  respect  themselves  cannot  receive  that  kind 
of  favors. 

"Why  did  you  let  him  accept  the  return  of  the  prop- 


THE  MASSAEENES.  423 

erty,  Elsie  ?  "  he  said  to  Lady  Roxhall,  whom  he  saw  on 
the  club  terrace  at  Cowes  as  soon  as  he  landed  there. 

Lady  Roxhall  colored  a  little. 

"Perhaps  we  ought  not  to  have  done  so.  But,  oh,  my 
dear  Ronald,  I  shall  be  so  rejoiced  to  go  back  !  It  was 
very  good  of  Miss  Massarene  to  offer  its  release,"  she 
added,  "so  rude  as  we  have  all  of  us  been  to  her." 

"You  cannot  be  rude  any  more,"  said  Hurstmanceaux. 
"  You  have  sold  your  freedom  of  choice  for  a  mess  of  pot- 
tage. You  have  accepted  this  lady's  favors.  You  must 
embrace  her  in  return  if  she  exacts  it." 

"How  irritable  Ronald  has  grown,"  thought  Lady 
Roxhall.  "  He  used  to  be  so  kind  and  sweet-tempered. 
I  suppose  it  is  his  having  to  sell  his  pictures  that  sours 
him.  I  wonder  why  he  did  sell  them?" 

Hurstmanceaux,  before  he  went  on  board  to  sleep  that 
night,  wrote  a  letter  at  the  R.  Y.  S.  Club,  which  it  cost 
him  a  great  effort  to  write. 

"  But  it's  not  fair  for  all  the  generosity  to  be  on  her 
side,"  he  thought.  "  We  must  look  like  a  set  of  savages 
to  her.  We  have  not  even  the  common  decency  to  thank 
her." 

"MADAM, — 

"  Circumstances,  on  which  it  is  needless  for  me  to 
dwell,  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  have  the  honor  of  any  in- 
tercourse with  you  in  the  future.  But  do  not  think  that  I 
am,  for  that  reason,  insensible  to  the  nobility,  generosity,  and 
kindness  which  you  have  displayed  in  your  dealings  with 
more  than  one  member  of  my  family,  and  the  forbearance 
you  have  shown  to  one  wholly  univorthy  of  it.  For  the  si- 
lence you  have  kept  in  the  past,  and  have  offered  to  preserve 
in  the  future,  I  pray  you  to  accept  my  sincere  gratitude.  I 
beg  to  remain,  Madam^ 

"  Tour  obediejit  servant, 

11  HURSTMANCEAUX." 

This  letter  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  woman  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  although  she  was  but  very  rarely 
moved  to  such  emotion.  "  Why  should  we  be  strangers," 
she  thought,  "  because  of  the  sins  or  the  crimes  of  others  ?  " 


424  THE  MASSARENES. 

She  drew  the  check  which  he  had  sent  her  on  his 
bankers,  but  she  gave,  at  the  same  time,  a  commission  to 
a  famous  art  agent  in  Paris  to  buy  back  the  Dutch  and 
Flemish  pictures  of  the  Faldon  Collection  from  the  dealers 
who  had  purchased  them,  and  on  no  account  to  let  her 
name  appear  in  connection  with  the  purchase. 

Why  should  an  honest  and  gallant  gentleman  lose  heir- 
looms because  his  sister  had  been  as  venal  as  any  courte- 
zan of  ancient  Rome  or  modern  Paris  ?  How  she  would 
be  able  ever  to  restore  them  to  him  she  did  not  know ; 
meantime,  she  saved  them  from  the  hammer. 

She  thought  that  she  would  leave  them  to  him  by  will, 
in  case  of  her  own  death,  with  reversion  to  the  National 
Gallery  if  he  refused  to  accept  them,  and  to  restore  them 
to  their  places  at  Faldon. 


THE  MASSARENES.  425 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AT  the  head  of  a  Norwegian  fjord,  where  the  tents  of  a 
gay  and  aristocratic  party  of  travellers  had  been  pitched 
on  the  green  sward  for  a  merry  month  or  two  of  fishing 
and  shooting  and  canoeing,  the  postbags  were  brought  up 
the  valley  on  the  back  of  a  stout  mountain  pony  one  fine 
cold  day  at  the  end  of  the  sporting  season.  Sir  Henry 
Bassenthwaite,  leader  and  host  of  the  expedition,  was  a 
newly-made  baronet,  a  very  rich  brewer,  one  of  those  per- 
sons who  bear  with  them  a  trail  of  electric  light  and  a 
cloud  of  gold  dust  as  they  rush  through  unsophisticated 
lands  which  they  annoy  by  their  impertinence,  and  console 
by  their  expenditure. 

Sir  Henry  took  the  letter-bags,  untied  them,  unsealed 
them,  and  distributed  their  contents  to  his  party. 

"  A  round  dozen  for  you,  Duchess  !  "  he  cried  gaily,  as 
he  held  them  above  his  head. 

The  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  who  was  seated  on  the 
turf  leaning  against  a  boulder,  grey  with  lichens,  amongst 
the  cloud-berry  with  her  rod  and  kreel  beside  her,  and 
a  little  court  of  men  round  her,  received  her  letters  with 
that  quickening  of  the  pulse  under  apprehension  which 
was  frequent  with  her  since  she  had  been  taught  to  trem- 
ble by  William  Massarene.  The  dread  of  a  posthumous 
retaliation  was  always  upon  her:  she  never  now  saw  a 
closed  envelope  without  an  inward  shiver  of  apprehension. 

Instinctively  she  rose  and  walked  to  a  little  distance 
with  her  back  to  her  companions,  and  stood  still  on  the 
edge  of  the  foaming,  crystal-clear,  noisy  river  into  which 
a  little  while  before  she  had  been  throwing  her  line. 

She  broke  the  seals  with  unsteady  fingers.  She  hastily 
scanned  assurances  from  White! eaf  that  the  children  were 
well.  Then  she  took  up  the  rest  of  the  correspondence, 
and  her  heart  stood  still  as  she  saw  a  large  packet  sealed 
with  six  large  black  seals  and  addressed  to  her  in  a  hand- 
writing which  she  knew  at  a  glance  to  be  Katherine  Mas- 


426  THE  MASSABENES. 

sarene's.  There  must  be  some  message  from  the  dead  at 
last ! 

Out  of  the  linen-lined  envelope  there  fell  many  letters 
in  her  own  writing,  and  the  counterfoils  of  many  checks 
made  out  to  her  own  name  and  signed  "  W.  M.,"  and  many 
others  marked,  "Drawn  self,  passed  to  Lady  K.";  there 
were  also  bills  signed  by  Cocky.  Then  she  understood. 

The  daughter  of  William  Massarene  knew  all,  or  at  least 
knew  much,  and  must  guess  what  she  did  not  know.  She 
turned  cold  with  fear ;  the  whirling  water  made  her  giddy ; 
she  gasped  for  breath  and  clutched  the  stem  of  a  young 
rowan-tree. 

She,  who  had  but  scanty  belief  in  generosity,  wondered 
how  many  signatures  of  hers  might  not  have  been  kept 
back  by  the  sender  ? 

Of  all  these  things  of  the  past  she  had,  herself,  but  the 
most  confused  recollection.  In  the  early  time,  when  Billy 
had  been  as  Pactolus  to  her  insatiable  thirst,  she  had 
never  kept  any  account  of  all  she  drew  from  him  directly 
or  indirectly. 

But  whether  all  which  compromised  her  were  restored 
or  not,  the  main  fact  remained  the  same :  his  daughter 
must  know. 

And  the  signatures  concerning  the  diamonds — where 
were  they?  Katherine  Massarene  might  or  might  not 
have  restored  all  the  rest ;  but  she  had  not  sent  her  those. 

Where  were  they  ?  Those  which  mattered  most  of  all  ? 
It  was  mere  mockery  of  her  fears  to  send  her  back  all 
these  others  and  withhold  from  her  the  proofs  of  the  trans- 
action with  Beaumont. 

It  was  cruelty,  odious,  tantalizing,  cat-like  cruelty,  play- 
ing with  her  only  to  humiliate  and  degrade  her  more ! 

u  I  always  tried  to  be  pleasant  with  her,  and  she  never 
would  respond,"  she  thought,  with  that  sense  of  never  be- 
ing the  least  in  fault  herself,  which  so  happily  consoled 
and  sustained  her  at  all  times. 

She  heard  steps  approaching  and  she  tore  with  frantic 
haste  in  little  bits  all  her  own  letters  and  receipts  and 
Massarene's  counterfoils,  and  flung  them  with  the  black- 
sealed  envelope  into  the  boiling  stream,  which  eddying 
amongst  its  rocks  swallowed  them  under  spray  and  foam. 


THE  MASSARENES.  427 

The  trout  leaped  up  alarmed  from  the  upper  water,  the 
field-fares  and  redwings  flew  up  frightened  from  the  cloud- 
berry bushes.  The  camp-ponies  tethered  near  whinnied 
nervously. 

"  What  a  destruction  of  correspondence ! "  said  the 
voice  of  Sir  Henry.  "What  have  the  writers  done  to 
you,  Duchess?" 

With  that  marvellous  power  of  self-command  which  the 
habit  of  the  world  teaches,  she  turned  to  him  and  laughed 
a  little. 

"  All  advertisements ! — and  six  sheets  from  Fraulein 
Heyse  about  the  children.  Such  a  disappointment,  the 
envelope  looked  so  imposing." 

"For  a  clever  liar  at  a  pinch  commend  me  to  Cocky's 
widow,"  he  thought. 

When,  a  few  days  later,  the  whole  party,  warned  by  a 
snowstorm,  rode  down  the  mountains  and  through  the 
meadows  to  Bergen  to  rejoin  Sir  Henry's  schooner,  which 
was  in  harbor  there,  she,  who  was  the  gayest  and  noisiest 
amongst  them,  thought  of  nothing  but  of  those  two  miss- 
ing signatures. 

To  have  had  the  others  returned  was  useless  whilst 
these  two  were  out  of  her  hands  and  in  the  power  of  some- 
one unknown.  She  felt  anxious  to  get  to  England,  though 
what  to  do  when  she  should  be  there  in  this  matter  she 
could  not  tell:  tell  the  truth  for  once,  perhaps — that  last 
refuge  of  the  desperate — in  an  appeal  to  Katherine  Mas- 
sarene's  mercy. 

When  she  went  on  board  the  Bassenthwaite  boat — a 
fine  vessel  which  had  gone  all  round  the  world — Sir  Henry 
met  her  cheerfully;  he  had  preceded  the  party  by  two 
hours. 

"  Here's  a  pleasant  surprise,  Duchess,"  he  cried.  "  Your 
brother's  yacht's  in  the  roads;  she  was  signalled  this 
morning." 

"  The  DiantJms  ?  "  she  asked,  startled  and  dismayed. 

"  The  Dianthus — yes,"  he  replied.  "  You  will  have  some 
message,  no  doubt,  soon.  It  is  a  surprise,  eh?  " 

"  A  very  great  surprise,"  she  answered.  "  I  thought 
Hurstmanceaux  was  in  the  Irish  Channel." 

Bassenthwaite  was  astonished  at  her  evident  vexation. 


428  TEE  MASSARENES. 

Under  the  plea  of  fatigue  she  went  to  her  cabin.  She  was 
alarmed  beyond  expression.  That  intuition  which  does 
duty  for  wisdom  in  many  women  told  her  that  her  brother 
had  the  missing  signatures — that  it  was  on  their  account 
that  he  had  come  into  the  North  seas. 

William  Massarene  was  dead:  would  the  ghost  from 
his  grave  never  cease  from  pursuing  her?  She  felt  chilly 
and  ill-used. 

It  was  dinner-time :  she  was  obliged  to  laugh  and  talk 
and  look  her  best ;  the  German  Emperor's  yacht  was  in 
the  harbor;  there  were  fireworks,  illumination  of  the 
shipping,  bands  played ;  the  Bassenthwaite  schooner  was 
a  blaze  of  light  and  fire  :  there  was  dancing  on  deck ;  the 
Kaiser  came  on  board  and  was  very  pleasant. 

She  had  to  appear  to  enjoy  it  all,  while  her  heart  grew 
sick  as  she  gazed  past  the  lights  outward  to  the  darkness 
of  the  offing  to  where  they  said  that  the  Dianthus  was 
riding  at  anchor. 

Early  next  morning  they  announced  to  her  that  a  mes- 
sage had  come  for  her  :  one  of  her  brother's  men  had 
brought  a  note.  It  was  extremely  brief,  and  requested 
her  to  come  to  him  by  the  boat  he  sent. 

She  wrote  in  answer :  "  The  Bassenthwaites  hope  you 
will  come  and  lunch.  We  weigh  anchor  at  three  o'clock. 
I  cannot  come  to  you." 

When  Hurstmanceaux  received  this  answer  by  his 
sailor's  hands,  he  was  pacing  his  deck  in  great  anger  to 
see  his  boat  returning  without  her. 

He  did  not  know  the  Bassenthwaites;  he  did  not  wish 
to  know  them ;  and  at  this  moment  of  all  others  he  could 
not  have  endured  to  meet  her  before  strangers. 

He  wrote  again :  "  I  desire  you  to  come  in  my  boat.  I 
am  here  only  to  see  you.  I  have  your  signature  and 
Beaumont's  " — and  sent  his  sailors  back  to  Bassenth- 
waite's  schooner. 

It  was  no  more  than  she  had  expected,  but  she  felt  as  if 
all  the  ice  of  the  Pole  were  drifting  down  and  closing  on 
her  when  she  saw  his  men  returning.  She  dare  not  disobey 
the  summons.  She  went  in  the  boat  from  the  Dianthus. 

"  I  wonder  what  she'll  hear  when  she  gets  there,"  said 
Bassenthwaite  to  his  wife. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  429 

"  Nothing  pleasant,  I  suspect.  He  is  an  odious  man," 
said  his  wife.  "  He  thinks  the  Courcys  of  Faldon  were 
made  before  Adam." 

The  despatch  of  the  letters  and  receipts  from  Katherine 
Massarene  had,  in  a  measure,  prepared  her  for  worse  to 
corne.  She  had  not  for  a  moment  attributed  the  sending 
of  them  to  a  movement  of  generosity.  She  had  supposed 
that  "  Billy's  daughter  "  took  that  form  of  vengeance  as 
the  simplest  and  the  easiest,  and  she  did  not  hope  for  an 
instant  that  the  secrets  contained  in  that  packet  would  be 
respected.  Therefore  she  was  the  less  surprised,  though 
the  more  alarmed,  when  the  curt  command  of  Hurstman- 
ceaux  was  brought  to  her. 

She  immediately  concluded  that  Katherine  Massarene 
had  been  his  informant  against  her. 

She  was  not  an  instant  alone  after  his  message  came  to 
reflect  on  what  course  she  should  pursue,  and  could  only 
trust  to  her  usual  good  fortune  to  bear  her  through  this 
crisis,  as  it  had  borne  her  through  many  another.  But  as 
the  boat  threaded  its  course  through  the  craft  in  the  roads, 
she  felt  a  sharper  terror  than  she  had  ever  known,  even  in 
the  presence  of  William  Massarene,  as  she  saw  across  the 
water  the  well-known  lines  of  the  old  yawl. 

When  she  reached  the  yacht  at  the  entrance  of  the 
roads,  she  found,  to  her  surprise,  that  Hurstmanceaux 
was  not  011  deck  to  receive  her. 

"  Is  my  brother  unwell  ?  "  she  asked  of  his  skipper. 

"  No,  madam/'  answered  the  old  man.  "  I  was  to  ask 
your  Grace  to  be  so  good  as  to  go  below." 

She  went  down  the  companionway.  Hurstmanceaux 
rose  in  silence,  and  closed  the  door  on  her  of  his  cabin 
when  she  had  entered.  He  had  felt  it  impossible  to  force 
himself  to  meet  her  before  his  crew. 

She  endeavored  to  laugh. 

"  How  very  tragic  you  are  !  "  she  said,  mastering  the 
great  fear  which  froze  her  blood ;  "  and  how  extremely 
rude  !  " 

"  I  have  your  signatures,"  he  said,  as  he  stood  before  her 
in  the  plain  little  cabin  of  which  the  only  ornaments  were 
two  large  photographs  of  Faldon  and  a  sketch  by  Watts 
of  his  mother. 


430  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  I  suppose,  if  you  have  them,  you  have  thrown  away  a 
great  deal  of  good  money  in  getting  them ;  and  you 
might  have  spent  it  better,"  she  replied  with  airy  non- 
chalance. 

He  was  so  astounded  at  her  levity,  indifference,  and  in- 
solence, that  for  some  moments  he  was  mute. 

"I  don't  like  being  ordered  about  like  this,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  It  looks  very  odd  to  the  Bassenthwaites.  Why 
didn't  you  come  to  luncheon  ?  You  could  have  talked 
to  me  afterwards  on  deck.  When  did  you  see  the  chil- 
dren?" 

A  great  oath  broke  from  his  lips. 

"  Have  you  no  decency  ?  No  conscience  ?  Do  you  not 
understand  ?  Amongst  his  papers  a  letter  of  Massarene's 
was  found  to  me ;  it  contained  your  signature  to  him  for 
twelve  thousand  pounds  plus  interest,  and  another  signa- 
ture to  Beaumont,  the  jeweler  with  whom  you  placed  the 
Otterbourne  jewels  in  pawn." 

His  words  said  all :  he  expected  to  see  her  overwhelmed 
by  shame.  But  she  preserved  her  equanimity. 

"  You  might  have  sent  them  to  me  without  coming  out 
to  Bergen,"  she  said  with  impatience.  She  spoke  with  her 
usual  tone,  a  little  more  impertinently  than  usual ;  but 
her  lips  were  very  pale. 

"What  did  Billy  tell  you?"  she  added  between  her 
teeth.  She  felt  sick  with  fear. 

"  Mr.  Massarene  told  me  nothing.  Beaumont,  whom  I 
saw  subsequently,  told  me  everything." 

She  breathed  more  freely.  Billy  might  have  done  worse 
than  he  had  done.  Beaumont  of  course  knew  nothing, 
except  the  fact  of  this  debt  and  its  payment.  She  sat 
down  in  a  low  reclining  chair  and  leaned  back  in  it,  and 
put  her  coat  with  its  big  gold  buttons  and  wild-rose  per- 
fume on  the  cabin  table. 

"Did  you  come  out  here  only  to  say  this?  "  she  asked 
in  a  very  bored  tone  ;  she  wondered  why  she  had  so  ter- 
rified and  tortured  herself:  whatever  Ronald  knew  he 
would  not  say  to  others. 

Her  attitude,  her  tone,  her  surpassing  insolence  and 
coolness  broke  the  bonds  of  his  patience,  the  storm  of  his 
wrath  and  of  his  scorn  burst ;  he  spoke  as  had  neve* 


THE  HASSAUENES.  431 

thought  to  speak  to  any  woman.  All  the  pain  and  humil- 
iation he  had  suffered  through  her,  of  which  he  had  been 
able  to  say  no  word  to  any  living  soul,  found  outlet  in  a 
flood  of  furious  reproach. 

She  listened,  indifferent,  taking  a  cigarette  off  the  cabin 
table  and  lighting  it  from  a  fusee  box  which  she  carried  in 
the  breast  pocket  of  her  serge  jacket.  The  whole  thing 
was  odious  to  her  in  its  recollection  ;  but  it  was  past  and 
Massarene  was  in  his  grave,  and  had  taken  her  secrets 
with  him  except  as  regarded  her  debts.  Ronald  might 
rave  as  he  would ;  he  would  not  kill  her,  and  he  would 
not  expose  her  to  other  people.  It  was  a  wretched  scene 
to  have  to  go  through,  but  after  all  scenes  only  take  it 
out  of  one.  One  doesn't  die  of  them.  So  she  sat  still, 
swaying  gently  to  and  fro,  and  smoking,  while  the  bitter 
shame  and  suffering,  which  her  brother  expressed,  rolled 
like  a  tempest  over  her  head  and  left  her  unmoved,  unre- 
pentant. 

"  To  think  that  you  come  of  my  blood — that  you  had 
my  name  !  "  he  said  with  hot  tears  scorching  his  eyes. 
"To  think  that  you  were  once  a  little  innocent  child  whom 
I  carried  about  in  my  arms  at  Faldon !  You  are  a  mass 
of  lies,  a  tissue  of  infamy ;  your  very  breath  is  falsehood. 
You  have  not  even  such  common  shame  and  honesty  as 
we  may  find  in  the  poorest  women  of  the  streets.  Poor 
Otterbourne  said  once  to  me  that  your  influence  was  a 
moral  phylloxera.  How  true,  good  God  !  how  true  !  They 
tear  up  and  burn  the  tainted  vines.  We  ought  to  slay 
such  women  as  you  !  " 

She  laughed  a  little,  but  her  eyes  flashed  fire. 

"  A  moral  phylloxera  I  I  never  knew  poor  Poodle  say 
anything  so  clever.  How  long  is  this  scene  to  last  ?  I 
really  see  no  good  in  it.  It  seems  to  relieve  your  feel- 
ings, but  it  offends  my  taste.  You  appear  to  forget  that 
though  you  are  my  children's  guardian  you  are  not  mine." 

"  I  am  the  head  of  your  family  and  your  trustee." 

"  I  know ;  and  you  can  annoy  me  in  any  way  about 
money,  as  you  always  have  done ;  but  there  your  power 
ends.  I  should  not  have  been  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
others  if  you  had  showed  more  feeling  for  my  position. 
But  you  never  showed  me  any  sympathy.  I  saw  in  the 


432  THE  MASSARENES. 

English  papers  that  you  had  sold  the  petits  maitres. 
Why  did  you  not  sell  them  before,  and  give  the  proceeds 
to  me  ?  "  * 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

"It  was  the  same  thing  with  the  jewels,"  she  contin- 
ued. "  You  could  have  induced  the  others  to  leave  them 
with  me  until  Jack's  majority.  But  instead  of  that  you 
talked  high-flown  stuff  about  the  law  and  your  duties, 
and  you  cared  nothing  at  all  what  injury  and  difficulty 
you  caused  to  me." 

He  was  still  silent ;  she  took  another  cigarette,  lighted 
it,  and  again  continued  : 

"  You  blame  me  for  what  I  did.  I  did  what  I  could. 
When  the  hare  runs  for  her  life  she  doesn't  look  where  she 
goes.  The  diamonds  are  none  the  worse  for  being  with 
Beaumont.  They  were  quite  safe  with  him.  If  my  hus- 
band had  lived,  nobody  would  have  known  anything  about 
the  transaction.  His  death,  immediately  on  his  succession, 
was  disastrous  in  every  way." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  your  husband  was  aware  of  this 
loan  ? "  ' 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  she  said  a  moment  later,  without  hesi- 
tation, for  Cocky  could  not  contradict  her.  "  It  was  his 
idea  first  of  all." 

"  It  could  not  have  been  his  idea  to  borrow  of  Mr. 
Massarene,  for  that  transaction  took  place  two  months  and 
a  half  after  his  death  at  Staghurst." 

"  He  would  have  thought  it  a  very  good  idea  if  he  had 
been  alive  !  "  she  said  with  her  short,  satirical  little  laugh  : 
she  was  afraid  of  little  now,  for  she  saw  that  her  brother 
knew  nothing  beyond  the  mere  fact  of  the  loan.  "  As  for 
the  reproduction  of  the  jewels  in  paste,  which  you  seem 
to  think  a  crime,  several  women  I  know  wear  imitations 
of  their  jewels  for  safety  in  these  days  of  ingenious  thefts, 
and  leave  the  originals  in  deposit  at  their  bankers." 

Hurstmanceaux  looked  at  her  in  silence,  wondering  why 
a  creature  so  fair  should  be  born  without  a  conscience. 
Was  she  really  without  one,  or  was  this  indifference  only 
a  part  of  the  attitude  she  assumed?  Was  there  some- 
thing still  worse  which  he  did  not  know? 

He  felt  that  despair  which  overcomes  a  brave  man  be- 


THE  MASSARENES.  433 

fore  the  shamelessness  of  a  woman.  What  could  he  do  ? 
He  could  not  kill  her.  He  could  not  disgrace  her.  To 
awaken  any  conscience  in  her  was  hopeless.  If  she  did 
feel  any  humiliation  she  would  not  show  it.  For  a  mo- 
ment a  red  mist  swam  before  his  eyes  and  a  nervous  tremor 
passed  along  his  muscles ;  he  longed  to  stamp  the  life  out 
of  her  and  bruise  her  accursed  beauty  into  nothingness 
as  a  man  of  Shoreditch,  or  Montmartre,  or  the  Calle  of 
Venice  might  have  done  under  such  provocation  as  was 
his.  The  moment  passed,  of  course.  He  could  only 
realize  his  own  powerlessness.  There  is  nothing  on  earth 
so  powerless  as  the  impotence  of  a  man  of  honor  before 
the  vileness  of  a  woman  who  is  dear  to  him. 

He  moved  a  step  nearer  to  her  and  gazed  down  on  her 
with  a  look  which  made  her  lower  her  sunny  audacious 
eyes. 

"  You  had  more  money  than  this  from  Massarene?  " 

Regaining  her  courage,  and  remembering  that  Kather- 
ine  Massarene  had  probably  sent  her  all  her  other  signa- 
tures, she  rose  and  faced  him,  throwing  her  fresh  cigarette 
on  the  table. 

"  I  do  not  admit  that  you  have  the  smallest  right  to 
interrogate  me.  There  is  no  one  living  who  has.  Marry 
his  daughter,  and  you  and  she  can  look  over  his  old 
check-books  together.  You  are  my  children's  keeper, 
but  you  are  not  mine,  and  I  entirely  refuse  to  answer 
your  insults." 

It  was  clear,  she  reflected,  that  Massarene  had  told  him 
nothing  except  the  facts  concerning  the  diamonds.  He 
might  flounder  about  in  a  sea  of  conjecture,  and  make 
himself  as  wretched  as  ever  he  pleased;  she  was  not  so 
simple  as  to  confess  to  him. 

He  stood  above  her,  and  his  hands  fell  heavily  on  her 
shoulders  and  held  her  as  in  a  vice. 

"  You  had  more  money  than  this  from  Massarene  ?  " 

She  was  silent. 

He  still  held  her  motionless,  and  a  thrill  of  intense 
physical  fear  passed  through  her. 

"  You  gave  yourself  to  that  brute  for  lucre  ?  " 

She  was  silent. 

"  If  I  wrong  you,  look  me  in  the  face  and  say  soe" 
28 


434  THE  HASSARENES. 

He  waited  ;  still  holding  her  motionless. 

She  tried  to  lift  her  eyes  and  look  at  him  ;  she  had 
never  before  quailed  before  any  duplicitj^,  never  before 
been  unequal  to  the  demands  which  any  necessity  for 
falsehood  put  upon  her.  But  now,  for  once,  she  dared 
not  meet  the  eyes  of  this  man  whose  lifelong  affection 
she  had  abused,  and  whose  family  she  had  dishonored. 
For  once  she  could  not  lie  ;  for  once  her  defiant  audacity 
failed  her ;  for  once,  for  a  brief  passing  moment,  she  saw 
herself  as  he  would  see  her  could  he  know  all.  Standing 
before  him,  in  his  grasp,  her  head  drooped,  her  whole  form 
trembled,  her  eyelids  closed ;  she  dared  not  meet  his  gaze. 

He  understood. 

He  released  and  thrust  her  from  him. 

"  Would  to  God  our  mother  had  never  borne  you ! " 

He  grew  pale  as  ashes  ;  for  the  moment  he  had  diffi- 
culty to  restrain  himself  from  striking  to  the  ground  this 
woman  who  had  dishonored  his  race. 

She  took  her  coat  off  the  table  and  turned  away. 

"  Take  me  to  the  boat,"  she  said  imperiously.  "  I 
scarcely  suppose  you  want  your  crew  to  see  that  we  have 
quarrelled  ?  " 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  cabin.  "  Be  so  good  as  to 
accompany  the  duchess,  Mr.  Evans,"  he  said  to  his  skip- 
per; and  he  went  back  into  the  cabin  and  closed  and 
bolted  the  door. 

The  faint,  sweet  scent  of  wild-rose  essence  was  on  the 
air  and  on  the  table  where  her  coat  had  been  lying. 
He  dropped  into  the  chair  where  she  had  sat,  and,  leaning 
his  head  on  his  hands,  sobbed  like  a  child. 

She  went  back  over  the  harbor-water  talking  pleas- 
antly with  Evans.  "  My  brother  grows  such  a  hermit," 
she  said  to  him.  "It  is  a  great  pity  that  he  avoids 
society.  He  is  becoming  quite  morose/' 

44  Morose  ?  No,  your  Grace,"  said  the  old  man,  who 
adored  his  owner.  "  But  it  is  certain  his  lordship  leads  a 
lonesome  life.  When  we're  in  any  port,  he  don't  go 
ashore  o'  nights  to  sup  and  play  and  lark  as  other  gentle- 
men do.  But  there  aren't  his  equal  for  goodness  and 
kindness,  madam,  anywhere ;  no,  not  in  the  ''varsal 
world." 


TH£  MASSARENES.  43a 

"  It  is  very  nice  of  you  to  say  so,"  she  replied,  button- 
ing the  big  gold  buttons  of  her  coat ;  her  spirits  had 
risen ;  she  was  not  afraid  of  her  brother  any  longer  ;  he 
had  said  his  worst  and  she  had  made  him  feel  his  im- 
potence. After  all  it  did  not  really  matter  what  he  knew 
or  guessed,  he  would  not  talk. 

"  My  poor  darling,  has  he  worried  you  ? "  said  Lady 
Bassenthwaite,  full  of  sympathy,  when  she  returned. 

"  Worried  me  ?  I  should  think  so  !  "  she  answered. 
"  He  insists  on  my  shutting  myself  up  at  Whiteleaf,  and 
says  Boo  is  to  have  no  more  Paris  frocks.  Pray  give  me 
some  tea,  I  am  worn  out  with  being  lectured  !  " 

Lady  Bassenthwaite's  sympathy  did  not  include  cre- 
dulity. 

"  He  can't  have  come  out  all  the  way  from  Cowes  to 
Bergen  only  to  talk  about  Boo's  frocks,"  she  said  later  in 
the  evening  to  her  husband. 


433  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

KATHERINE  MASSARENE  was  as  unhappy  as  it  is  possi- 
ble for  a  person  to  be  who  has  no  personal  crime  on  their 
conscience,  and  has  all  their  personal  wants  supplied.  She 
was  incessantly  haunted  by  the  sense  of  her  father's 
wickedness.  True  he  had  never  gone  to  windward  of  the 
law  ;  he  had  never  done  anything  which  would  have  en- 
abled the  law  to  call  him  to  account.  But  his  actions 
seemed  to  her  all  the  worse  because  of  that  cold-blooded 
caution  which  had  kept  him  carefully  justified  legally  in 
all  which  he  did.  His  own  advancement  had  always  been 
his  governing  purpose;  and  he  had  been  too  shrewd  to 
imperil  this  by  any  excess  in  overreaching  others,  such  as 
might  have  made  him  liable  to  law.  Pie  had  dealt  with 
men  so  that  they  were  always  legally  in  the  wrong :  for 
moral  right  he  cared  nothing.  To  his  heiress  all  his 
wealth  seemed  blood-stained  and  accursed.  She  seemed 
to  herself  blood-stained  in  keeping  or  using  it.  Some 
part  might  possibly  have  been  gained  by  industry,  frugal- 
ity, and  self-denial ;  but  the  main  portion  of  it  had  been 
built  up  on  the  ruin  of  others.  In  any  case  she  would 
have  felt  thus,  but  the  words  of  Hurstmanceaux  had  been 
like  electric  light  shed  on  a  dark  place  where  murdered 
bodies  lie.  His  scorn  cut  her  to  the  heart.  She  did  not 
resent  it ;  she  admired  it ;  but  it  cut  her  to  the  quick. 

This  was  how  all  men  of  honor  and  honesty  must 
regard  the  career  of  William  Massarene  :  if  the  world  in 
general  had  not  done  so  it  was  only  because  the  world 
is  corrupt  and  venal  itself  and  always  open  to  purchase  ; 
the  world  it  may  roughly  be  said  does  not  quarrel  with 
its  bread  and  butter.  But  what  Hurstmanceaux  felt  was, 
she  knew,  that  which  every  person  of  high  principle 
would  feel  with  regard  to  the  vast  ill-gotten  wealth  which 
she  had  inherited.  She  did  not  even  quarrel  with  the 
patrician  temper  which  had  insulted  herself;  it  was  so 
much  better  and  worthier  than  the  general  disposition  of 
the  times  to  condone  anything  to  wealth. 


THE  MASSARENES.  437 

She  suffered  under  it,  but  she  did  not  resent  it.  In- 
dividually, to  herself,  it  was  unjust ;  but  she  could  not 
expect  him  to  know  that  or  to  believe  in  it. 

It  did  not  help  her  on  her  difficult  road ;  but  it  made 
her  see  only  one  issue  to  it. 

This  she  saw  clearly. 

She  walked  slowly  one  day  through  the  wood  which 
was  a  portion  of  the  little  property  ;  between  the  pine 
stems  the  grey  water  of  the  Channel  was  seen,  dreamy, 
misty,  and  dull  in  a  sunless  day.  Some  colliers  and  a 
fishing-lugger  with  dingy  canvas  were  drifting  slowly 
through  the  windless  air,  under  the  low  clouds.  Her 
thoughts  were  not  with  the  landscape,  and  she  paced  ab- 
sently the  path,  strewn  with  fir  needles,  which  led  to  the 
cliff.  She  was  roused  by  a  little  dog  bustling  gaily 
through  the  underwood  and  jumping  upon  her  in  recogni- 
tion, whilst  her  own  dog,  whom  she  called  Argus,  imme- 
diately investigated  the  stranger's  credentials.  A  mo- 
ment or  two  later  pleasant  cherry  tones,  which  she  had 
last  heard  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer  leaving  Indian 
shores,  reached  her  ear.  "  Hello,  Miss  Massarene ! 
Whisky  knows  old  friends.  How  are  you,  my  dear  ?  I 
was  coming  up  to  your  house." 

She  turned  and  saw  Lord  Framlingham,  with  great 
pleasure  :  she  had  heard  that  he  was  in  England  for  a  few 
weeks,  but  had  scarcely  hoped  to  meet  him  unless  she 
went  up  to  town  for  the  purpose. 

"  Did  you  really  come  down  here  only  to  see  me  ?  That 
is  very  good  of  you,"  she  said  gratefully. 

"  The  goodness  is  to  myself.  Besides,  I  could  not  show 
my  face  to  my  girls  if  I  went  back  without  having  a  chat 
with  you.  No  thanks.  I  have  lunched.  If  you  are  go- 
ing for  a  walk,  Whisky  and  I  will  go  with  you. 

44  Is  this  big  rough  fellow  yours  ?  "  he  added,  looking  at 
Argus.  "  I  dare  say  he's  very  devoted,  but  I  can't  say 
much  for  his  breeding." 

Katherine  laughed  slightly.  "  How  like  an  English- 
man !  Why  are  'humans  '  the  only  animals  in  whom  you 
do  not  exact  breeding?" 

They  went  on  through  the  woods  talking  of  his  family, 
who  had  remained  in  India,  and  of  the  political  matters 


438  THE  MASSARENES. 

which  had  brought  him  home  for  a  personal  conference 
with  the  Home  Government.  When  they  came  out  on 
to  the  head  of  the  cliff  they  sat  down  in  sight  of  the  sea. 

"  How  homelike  it  all  looks !  That  brown  lugger, 
those  leaden  clouds,  that  rainy  distance." 

He  was  silent  a  minute  or  two,  touched  to  the  vague 
sadness  of  the  exile.  Then  he  turned  to  her. 

"Now  tell  me  of  yourself;  I  have  thought  much  of 
you  since  your  father's  death.  It  was  a  frightful  end." 

"  It  was." 

"Do  you  remember  our  long  talk  under  the  magnolias? 
How  little  we  thought  then  that  his  ambitions  would  so 
soon  be  over !  You  don't  look  well.  It  must  have  been 
a  great  shock." 

She  gave  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"And  you  are  sole  mistress  of  everything?" 

"Yes." 

"That  is  an  immense  burden." 

«  Yes." 

"  You  must  get  some  one  to  bear  it  with  you.  Pardon 
me,  but  I  am  as  interested  in  your  future  as  if  you  were 
one  of  my  daughters.  I  saw  something  in  a  society  paper 
about  you  this  morning.  I  devoutly  hope  it  is  true." 

"What  was  it?" 

"That  you  were  about  to  marry  Lord  Hurstmanceaux." 

"  What !  " 

She  rose  from  her  seat  as  if  a  snake  had  bitten  her,  her 
colorless  skin  grew  red  as  a  rose,  her  eyes  blazed  with  an 
indignation  for  which  her  companion  was  puzzled  to  ac- 
count. "Whoever  dare — whoever  dare "  she  said 

breathlessly. 

Framlingham  was  astonished.  "  Come,  come,  my  dear ; 
there's  nothing  in  the  report  to  put  your  back  up  like 
that.  I  don't  know  him  personally,  but  I  have  always 
heard  that  he  is  a  very  fine  fellow — poor — but  that 
wouldn't  matter  to  }^ou ;  on  my  word,  I  don't  think  you 
could  possibly  do  better.  You  might  get  much  higher 
rank,  of  course,  but  then  you  don't  care  about  rank. 
Pray  be  seated  and  calm  yourself." 

"  How  could  such  a  falsehood  possibly  be  put  in 
print?"  she  said  nervously. 


THE  HA8SAEENE8.  439 

"  You  might  be  more  astonished  if  you  saw  a  truth  in 
print,"  said  Framlingham  with  a  chuckle.  "So  it's  no 
foundation,  eh  ?  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Slightly.  He  called  on  me  on  business  a  few  weeks 
since.  But  he  is  the  very  last  person  on  earth  of  whom 
a  statement  of  that  kind  could  ever  possibly  be  true." 

"  Humph ! "  said  Framlingham,  and  he  threw  a  dead 
stick  for  Whisky  to  fetch. 

"His  sister  played  fast  and  loose  with  your  father's 
money,  didn't  she  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to  speak  of  her." 

"  All  right,"  said  Framlingham  rather  disappointed. 
"  But  because  you  don't  like  the  sister  that  is  no  reason 
to  refuse  the  brother.  I  have  always  heard  that  she  is  a 
thorn  in  his  side." 

"  There  could  be  no  question  of  refusal  or  acceptance," 
said  Katherine,  exceedingly  annoyed.  "Lord  Hurstman- 
ceaux  and  I  scarcely  know  each  other  ;  and  there  is  no 
one  who  more  thoroughly  despises  myself  and  my  origin 
than  he  does." 

Framlingham  was  very  astonished,  and  sent  Whisky 
after  another  stick. 

"  He  can  scarcely  have  told  you  so  ?  "  he  said.  "  Hie 
— good  dog — bring  it !  " 

"  He  has  told  me  so  in  most  unmistakable  terms.  Pray 
don't  think  that  I  blame  him  for  a  moment ;  but  you  will 
understand  that,  knowing  this,  such  a  report  as  you  speak 
of  in  the  papers  is  incomprehensible  to  me  and  most 
odious." 

"  Necessarily,"  said  Framlingham,  as  he  looked  at  her 
with  his  keen  sagacious  grey  eyes  and  thought  to  himself, 
"  It  is  well  to  begin  with  a  little  aversion.  He  may  be 
odious  to  her,  but  I  doubt  if  he  is  indifferent." 

Katherine  was  silent ;  the  momentary  color  had  faded 
out  of  her  face ;  her  gaze  followed  the  grimy  canvas  of 
the  collier  as  it  sailed  slowly  to  westward. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  said  her  friend,  as  he  patted  his 
skye-terrier.  "  He's  a  good  man,  and  I  should  like  to 
know  you  were  in  the  hands  of  a  good  man,  my  dear. 
You  will  have  all  the  royal  and  noble  blackguards  in 
Europe  after  you,  and  you  have  nobody  I  think  to  advise 


440  THE  HASSAEENE8. 

you,  except  your  lawyers,  who  are  all  very  well  in  their 
way,  but— 

Katherine  smiled  a  little,  rather  scornfully. 

"  The  royal  and  noble  people  cannot  marry  me  by  force, 
and  I  should  suppose  they  will  understand  a  plain  4  No ' 
if  they  don't  often  hear  one.  Besides,  if  I  do  what  I 
meditate  I  shall  soon  lose  all  attraction  for  them." 

"  Good  Lord,  what's  that  ?     You  alarm  me.     I  remem 
ber  you  expressed  very  revolutionary  ideas  in  India." 

"  I  will  tell  you  after  dinner.  You  will  dine  with  us, 
won't  you,  and  stay  a  day  or  two  ?  " 

"  I  will  dine  with  pleasure,  and  sleep  the  night.  But  I 
must  be  back  in  town  by  the  first  morning  train.  I  have 
to  go  down  to  Windsor  at  noon.  What  on  earth  can  you 
be  thinking  of  doing  ?  Buying  a  kingdom  in  the  South 
Seas,  or  finishing  the  Panama  ?  " 

"  Something  that  you  will  perhaps  think  quite  as  eccen- 
tric. Let  us  talk  of  other  things.  The  day  is  a  real 
English  day  to  welcome  you,  so  dim,  so  sad,  so  still ;  the 
weather  you  sigh  for  in  India." 

"Yes,"  said  Framlingham,  falling  in  with  her  mood. 
"  One  thinks  of  Lytton's  verses : 

"  *  Wandering  lonely,  over  seas, 
At  shut  of  day,  in  unfamiliar  land, 
What  time  the  serious  light  is  on  the  leas, 
To  me  there  comes  a  sighing  after  ease 
Much  wanted,  and  an  aching  wish  to  stand 
Knee-deep  in  English  grass,  and  have  at  hand 
A  little  churchyard  cool,  with  native  trees 
And  grassy  mounds,  thick  laced  with  osier-bands, 
Wherein  to  rest  at  last,  nor  farther  stray. 
So,  sad  of  heart,  muse  I  at  shut  of  day, 
On  safe  and  quiet  England,  till  thought  ails 
With  inward  groanings  deep  for  meadows  grey, 
Grey  copses,  cool  with  twilight,  shady  dales, 
Home-gardens,  full  of  rest,  where  never  may 
Come  loud  intrusion,  and  what  chiefly  fails 
My  sick  desire,  old  friendships  fled  away. 
I  am  much  vexed  with  loss.     Kind  Memory,  lay 
My  head  upon  thy  lap  and  tell  me  tales/ 

"  He  was  a  very  young  man  when  he  wrote  these  lines," 
said  Framlingham,  "  and  the  only  criticism  I  would  offer, 
is,  that  I  should  prefer  '  close  '  of  day  to  *  shut '  of  day. 
What  say  you?" 


THE  MASSA&ENm  441 

After  dinner  that  evening,  when  Mrs.  Massarene  had 
retired  to  her  room  not  to  offend  a  governor,  who  was 
spoken  of  as  a  future  governor-general,  by  the  sight  of 
her  nodding  and  dozing,  Katharine  turned  to  her  guest 
and  said  briefly — 

"  I  will  tell  you  now  what  my  wishes  are,  and  what  my 
one  doubt  is." 

"  I  am  all  attention,"  said  Framlingham,  lifting  the 
sleepy  Whisky  on  to  his  knee. 

"  I  have  found  out,"  she  continued,  "  that  the  money 
got  together  by  my  late  father  was  nearly  all  gained  in 
bad  ways,  cruel  ways,  dishonest  ways." 

"  That  does  not  surprise  me,"  said  Framlingham.  "  Most 
self-made  men  are  made  by  questionable  means.  Go  on." 

"  If  he  had  his  deserts  he  would  have  been  spurned  by 
everyone,"  said  Katherine,  whose  voice  shook  and  was 
very  low.  "  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  man  who 
killed  him  had  been  cheated  by  him  out  of  a  tin  mine. 
I  traced  that  man.  He  was  driven  wild  by  want.  His 
blood  is  on  us  and  on  the  money." 

"  I  thought  no  one  knew  who  killed  Massarene  ?  " 

"  No  one  does  know.  I  found  letters.  I  traced  their 
writer.  There  would  be  no  use  in  publicity.  His  case 
was  not  worse  than  that  of  others.  But  he  was  miserable 
and  alone.  He  took  his  revenge.  At  least  I  believe  so. 
I  have  gone  through  all  my  father's  documents,  and 
ledgers,  and  records.  His  whole  life  was  one  course  of 
selfish,  merciless,  unprincipled  gain.  His  earlier  econo- 
mies were  made  out  of  the  navvies,  and  miners,  and 
squatters  who  frequented  a  low  gambling  den  which  he 
kept  in  what  was  then  the  small  township  of  Kerosene. 
All  his  money  is  accursed.  It  is  all  blood-money.  I  can- 
not spend  a  sixpence  of  it  without  shame." 

She  spoke  still  in  low  tones  and  gently,  but  with  in- 
tense though  restrained  feeling. 

Framlingham  scarcely  knew  what  to  say.  He  had  no 
doubt  that  she  was  perfectly  right  as  to  the  sources  of  her 
father's  wealth,  and  he  was  sorry  that  she  had  been  able 
to  arrive  at  such  knowledge. 

"  These  are  your  views,"  he  said  as  she  paused.  "  Now 
let  me  hear  your  projects.' 


442  THE  &AMA&ENES. 

"  They  can  be  told  in  very  few  words,"  she  replied.  "  I 
desire — I  think  I  may  say  I  intend  to  free  myself  of  the 
whole  burden  of  the  inheritance.  Alas  !  I  cannot  undo 
its  curse." 

"  You  mean  to  beggar  yourself!  "  exclaimed  her  com- 
panion in  amaze  and  consternation. 

"  If  you  call  it  so.  I  must  leave  my  mother  her  yearly 
income  which  is  given  her  under  the  will ;  but  I  can  do 
as  I  please  with  all  the  rest,  and  I  shall  restore  it  as  far 
as  possible  to  those  from  whom  he  gained  it.  Of  course 
few  of  his  victims  will  be  traceable  ;  but  some  may  be,  so 
at  all  events  the  money  shall  go  back  to  the  poor  from 
whom  it  was  drained." 

Framlingham  stared  at  her  in  silent  stupefaction. 

"  You  cannot  be  serious,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  look  at  it  in  that  way.  I  thought  I 
should  have  had  your  sympathy." 

"  My  sympathy  !  " 

"  Certainly.     You  are  a  man  of  honor." 

Framlingham  was  silent. 

"  Cannot  you  pity  my  dishonor?"  she  said  in  the  same 
hushed,  grave  tones. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  her  friend,  "  I  pity  acutely  what 
you  feel,  and  I  can  imagine  nothing  more  painful  to  a 
sensitive  nature  than  such  a  discovery  as  you  have  made. 
But  you  may  have  exaggerated  your  censure  and  your 
conclusions.  The  age  we  live  in  is  lenient  to  such  deeds 
when  they  are  successful.  Your  father  was  a  rude  man 
dwelling  in  rough  society.  You  must  not  judge  him  by 
the  standard  of  your  own  high  ethics.  As  for  what  you 
propose  to  do,  it  is  simply  madness." 

"I  am  sorry  you  take  that  view." 

"  How  can  I  take  any  other  ?  What  man  or  woman  of 
the  world  would  take  any  other  ?  You  hold  a  magnifi- 
cent position.  You  have  the  means  of  leading  a  life  of 
extreme  usefulness  and  beauty.  You  can  marry  and  have 
children  to  whom  your  property  can  pass.  If  it  has  been 
defiled  at  its  source,  it  will  be  purified  in  passing  through 
your  hands.  Foul  water  going  through  a  porcelain  filter 
comes  out  clear.  You  are  not  responsible  for  what  your 
father  did.  His  crimes,  if  he  committed  any,  lie  buried 


THE  MASSARENES.  443 

with  him.  Neither  God  nor  man  can  call  you  to  account 
for  them." 

« I  call  myself." 

"  This  is  midsummer  madness  in  midwinter  !  If  you 
put  your  project  into  execution,  you  would  be  rooked, 
robbed,  ruined  on  every  side,  and  you  would  raise  a  hor- 
net's nest  of  swindlers  around  you.  No  one  would  be 
grateful  to  you.  All  would  turn  you  into  ridicule  and 
environ  you  with  intrigue.  My  dear,  you  have  had 
Aladdin's  lamp  given  to  you.  For  Heaven's  sake  use  it 
for  your  own  happiness  and  that  of  others.  Do  not  break 
it  because  there  is  a  flaw  in  the  glass.  There  is  your 
mother  also  to  be  considered,"  he  added  after  a  pause. 
"What  right  have  you  to  cause  her  such  change  of  cir- 
cumstance, such  possible  mortification  as  your  abandon- 
ment of  your  inheritance  would  bring  with  it?" 

"  In  that  perhaps  you  may  be  right,"  said  Katherine 
wearily,  "  but  in  that  only,  and  perhaps  not  even  in  that. 
You  speak  with  the  view  of  the  world,  and  wisely  no 
doubt.  But  I  am  sorry  you  see  it  so.  I  should  have 
hoped  you  would  have  understood  me  better." 

He  strove  to  turn  her  and  to  argue  with  her  for  more 
than  two  hours,  but  he  failed  to  bring  home  his  own  con- 
victions to  her  mind. 

"  Marry,  marry,  marry  !  "  he  said.  "  It  is  the  only  cure 
for  distempered  dreams." 

"I  shall  not  marry,"  replied  Katherine,  "and  I  do  not 
dream.  What  I  have  said  to  you  are  facts.  What  I 
mean  to  do  is  expiation." 

Framlingham  shook  his  head. 

"  When  a  woman  is  once  started  on  the  road  of  self- 
sacrifice,  an  eighty-horse  power  would  not  hold  her  back 
from  pursuing  it.  Good-night,  my  dear." 

He  went  up  the  staircase  to  his  own  room,  and  when 
there  opened  one  of  the  windows  and  looked  out ;  the 
night  was  dark,  but  he  could  hear  the  swell  of  the  sea, 
and  the  homely  smell  of  wet  grass,  of  rotting  leaves,  of 
falling  rain,  was  agreeable  to  him  because  it  was  that  of 
the  country  of  his  birth. 

"  What  she  wants  to  do  is  really  very  fine  and  very 
honorable,"  he  thought.  "  It  is  midsummer  madness,  but 


444  THE  MASSARENES. 

most  honorable  sentiments  are.  It  is  a  pity  that  one's 
worldly  wisdom  obliges  one  to  throw  cold  water  on  such 
a  scheme.'' 

The  next  morning,  very  early,  he  went  back  to  town. 

He  left  an  additional  sense  of  depression  and  uncer- 
tainty behind  him  in  Katherine's  mind.  He  had  not 
altered  her  opinion,  but  he  had  increased  her  perplexities. 
If  this  was  how  a  sagacious  and  experienced  man  of  the 
world  looked  at  her  project,  it  was  possible  that  there 
were  obstacles  in  the  way  of  its  accomplishment  which 
escaped  her  own  sight.  She  had  expected  to  have  Fram- 
lingham's  comprehension  and  concurrence,  for  in  India  he 
had  felt  so  much  sympathy  with  her  revolt  against  her 
father's  wealth.  The  worldly  wisdom  which  he  esteemed 
it  his  duty  to  preach  chilled  her  with  its  egotism  and  its 
coldness.  There  was  only  one  person  living  who  would 
have  understood  her  scruples  and  desires,  and  to  that  one 
person  she  would  certainly  never  speak  again. 

There  had  been  a  wall  between  them  before  this  men- 
dacious report  of  which  Framlingham  had  spoken  ;  since 
that  report  there  was  an  abyss.  She  felt  that  if  she  met 
Hurstmanceaux  on  a  public  road,  they  would  by  tacit 
mutual  consent  pass  each  other  without  visible  recogni- 
tion. 

Had  her  mother  not  been  living,  she  would  have  had  no 
hesitation  in  going  straight  to  the  end  she  had  in  view. 
But  her  mother  constituted  a  duty  of  another  and  opposite 
kind. 

The  rights  of  his  wife  had  been  almost  entirely  ignored 
by  William  Massarene  ;  but  her  daughter  could  not  ig- 
nore them  morally,  if  the  law  would  have  allowed  her  (as 
it  did)  to  do  so  legally.  More  than  once  she  attempted  to 
approach  the  subject,  and  was  arrested  by  her  own  nat- 
ural reserve,  and  by  the  slow  comprehension  to  take  a 
hint  of  her  mother. 

Moreover,  the  memory  of  William  Massarene  was  quite 
different  to  what  his  presence  had  been  to  the  wife,  whom 
his  last  testament  had  insulted.  With  his  coffin  in  the 
Roxhall  crypt,  all  his  offences  had  been  buried  in  her 
eyes;  a  man  to  whose  funeral  princes  had  sent  wreaths 
and  a  silver  stick  could  not  in  her  sight  be  other  than 


THE  MASSABENES.  445 

assoilzied.  Her  heart  was  much  warmer  than  her  mind 
was  strong,  and  she  was  accessible  to  those  charms  of  so- 
cial greatness  to  which  her  daughter  was  wholly  invul- 
nerable. She  had  suffered  in  the  great  world,  but  she 
had  liked  it. 

"  Would  you  mind  being  poor  again  ?  "  Katherine  asked 
her  once,  tentatively. 

Margaret  Massarene  was  unpleasantly  startled. 

"  There  aren't  anything  wrong  about  the  money,  is 
there  ?  "  she  said  anxiously.  "  I'm  always  afraid,  now 
your  dear  father  aren't  here,  to  hold  it  all  together." 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  solid  enough !  "  replied  Katherine,  with 
some  bitterness.  "  I  merely  asked  you,  would  you  dislike 
being  poor  if  you  were  so?" 

"Well,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Massarene,  crossing  her 
hands  on  her  lap,  "  I  can't  say  as  I  should  like  it.  When 
I  went  over  to  Kilrathy  I  did  wish  as  how  I'd  stayed 
milkin'  all  my  days.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there, 
and  the  past  is  spilled  milk  as  nobody  can  lap  up,  not 
even  a  cat.  But,  to  be  honest  with  ye,  I  think  there's  a 
good  deal  of  pleasantness  about  money,  and  living  well,  j 
and  being  warm  in  winter  and  cool  in  summer,  and  seein'  \ 
everybody  hat  in  hand  as  't  were.  No,  my  dear,  I 
shouldn't  like  to  be  poor;  and  you  wouldn't  either,  if 
you'd  ever  known  what  't  was." 

Katherine  was  silent.  She  had  not  expected  any  other 
answer,  yet  she  was  disappointed. 

"But,"  she  said,  after  a  few  moments — "but,  my  dear 
mother,  I  think  you  know,  I  think  }^ou  must  know,  that 
this  vast  amount  of  money  and  possessions  which  we 
inherit " 

"  Which  you  inherit,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene  with  a  little 
asperity.  "  I'm  struck  out " 

"  You  or  I,  it  is  the  same  thing,"  said  Katherine.  "  You 
must  know,  I  think,  that — that — it  was  not  very  credit- 
ably gained.  You  must,  I  suppose,  have  known  many 
things  and  many  details  of  my  father's  life  in  Kerosene ; 
of  his  early  life,  at  any  rate ;  of  the  foundations  of  his 
wealth." 

"Perhaps  I  did  and  perhaps  I  didn't,"  said  her  mother 
rather  sullenly.  "Your  good  father  never  consulted  me, 


446  THE  HASSARENES. 

my  dear,  and  if  I'd  put  myself  forward  he'd  have  locked 
me  up  in  the  coal  cellar,  and  left  me  there." 

"No  doubt  he  never  consulted  you,"  said  Katherine. 
"  But  it  is  impossible  that  living  with  him,  and  working 
for  him  as  you  have  often  told  me  you  did,  you  can  have 
been  wholly  ignorant  of  the  beginning  of  his  rise  to 
wealth.  You  must  know  very  much  of  the  ways  by  which 
he  first  acquired  it." 

Her  mother  was  moved  by  divided  feelings,  of  which, 
however,  vexation  was  the  chief.  She  was  embarrassed 
because  she  was  a  very  honest  woman ;  but  at  the  same 
time  her  buried  lord  was  purified  and  exalted  in  her  eyes. 
Had  not  a  bishop  laid  him  in  his  grave  ? 

"  'Tis  neither  here  nor  there  what  I  may  have  known, 
or  leastways  may  have  guessed,"  she  said  sullenly  and 
with  some  offence.  "  Your  father  never  did  nothing  as 
the  police  could  have  laid  hold  of — never  !  " 

"  Oh,  mother  !  "  cried  Katherine.  "  Is  that  your  stand- 
ard of  morality,  of  virtue  ?  " 

The  indignation  in  her  voice  increased  her  mother's 
annoyance. 

"  I  don't  see,  anyhow,"  she  said  very  angrily,  "  that  it  is 
the  place  of  a  daughter  to  try  and  rake  up  things  against 
her  father.  William  was  in  a  new  country,  where  the 
morals  is  new,  and  maybe  he  did  like  his  neighbors.  But 
the  first  people  in  the  old  country  thought  much  of  him. 
He'd  hev  died  a  lord  if  he'd  lived  a  year  more.  The 
Prince  sent  a  wreath  and  a  gentleman.  When  he's  laid 
in  his  grave  with  all  that  pomp  and  honor,  what  for  do 
you,  his  own  child,  go  and  try  to  throw  mud  on  his  coffin? 
I  think  it  shame  of  you,  Kathleen  ;  and  if  that's  all  your 
fine  eddication  has  taught  you,  well  'twas  money  ill  spent, 
and  you'd  better  look  at  the  fifth  commandment." 

With  a  sigh  her  daughter  rose  and  walked  through  the 
veranda  into  the  gardens  beyond,  and  thence  into  the 
pine-woods.  She  felt  the  utter  impossibility  of  ever 
bringing  her  mother's  mind  into  any  unison  with  her  own. 
It  was  wholly  useless  to  attempt  to  reach  and  touch  a 
chord  which  did  not  exist.  If  she  pursued  the  course 
which  she  though ';  right,  she  must  do  so  in  spite  of  her 
mother,  and  alone  in  her  choice. 


TEE  MASSAEENES.  447 

Margaret  Massarene  loved  her  daughter,  but  she 
thought  Katherine  was  a  "  crank."  She  could  see  no  rea- 
son why  they  should  not  both  of  them  enjoy  the  good 
things  poor  William  had  left  behind  him. 

She  was  a  good  and  honest  woman  ;  but  in  Kerosene 
City  the  moral  feelings  lose  their  sensitiveness,  and  she 
could  not  follow  Katherine's  reasonings;  she  considered 
them  high-flown,  and  a  pack  of  nonsense.  "  As  for  for- 
tunes being  made  honest,"  said  Margaret  Massarene  to 
herself,  "  'tis  a  pack  of  stuff  to  dream  of  it.  You  can't 
no  more  make  a  big  fortune  with  clean  hands  than  you 
can  stack  a  dung  heap." 

But  when  the  fortune,  however  accumulated,  was  made, 
it  seemed  to  her  flying  in  the  face  of  an  all-seeing 
Providence  to  quarrel  with  it,  and  to  "  climb  down." 
Who  ever  did  climb  down  if  they  could  help  it? 

"  You  would  not  like  to  visit  America,  mother  ? " 
Katherine  said  to  her  a  few  days  later. 

Margaret  Massarene  gasped. 

"  America  ?     The  States  ?  " 

"  The  States,  yes— Dakota." 

"  Ropes  shouldn't  drag  me,"  replied  her  mother  with 
unusual  firmness.  "  Oh,  Lord !  The  food  served  all 
higgledy-piggledy,  sour  and  sweet  all  running  a-muck ; 
the  trains  a-peering  in  at  your  sixth  floor  window ;  the 
men  hanging  on  to  hooks  in  the  crowd  of  the  cars ;  the 
spittle  all  over  the  place  ;  the  rush  and  the  crush  and  the 
pother  never  still.  Go  back  there  ?  No ;  you  should  kill 
me  first !  " 

She  was  roused  to  unusal  self-assertion  and  emphasis. 

"  Only  for  a  visit,"  said  Katherine  timidly. 

"  And  what  for — for  a  visit  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Massarene. 
"  Now  I've  got  back,  I'll  stay  where  I  am.  Many  and 
many  a  night  I've  lain  awake  in  that  hell ;  for  hell  't  is, 
with  the  railways  a-shrieking  and  rumbling  past  the  win- 
dows, and  the  furnace  chimneys  a-bellowing  fire  and  smoke, 
and  the  whistles  a-screaming,  and  the  pistons  a-th limping ; 
and  I've  thought  of  the  old  home  and  cried  till  I  was 
blind,  and  said  to  myself,  if  ever  a  good  God  let  me  go 
back,  I'd  stay  at  home  if  I  swept  the  streets  for  a  living. 
I  don't  fly  in  the  face  of  Providence,  Katherine." 


448  THE  MASSAKENES. 

"But  your  home  was  in  Ulster !  " 

"  You  don't  want  to  be  throwing  that  in  my  teeth.  1 
wasn't  brought  up  a  fine  English  lady  like  you.  But 
Europe's  Europe  and  the  States  is  the  States  ;  and  I 
won't  cross  that  grey,  wild  water  again ;  no,  not  if  you 
kill  me  !  " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  mother,  you  shall  do  as  you 
wish." 

"  Oh,  you're  very  soft  spoken,  but  you're  that  ob- 
stinate !  What  do  you  want  with  the  States  ?  You're  so 
mighty  pitiful  of  the  poor — almost  a  socialist,  as  one  may 
say.  Well,  I  can  tell  you  there's  harder  lines  there  be- 
tween rich  and  poor  than  there  is  in  these  old  countries, 
and  more  hatred  too.  There  aren't  nowhere,"  continued 
Margaret  Massarene,  her  pale  face  growing  warm,  "where 
the  luxury's  more  overdone,  and  the  selfishness  crueller, 
and  the  spending  of  money  wickeder,  than  in  the  States. 
Nowhere  on  earth  where  the  black  man  is  loathed  and  the 
poor  white  is  scorned  as  they  are  in  that  canting  4  free ' 
country !  " 

Katherine  sighed. 

"  So  I  have  always  understood.  But  it  only  makes  it  a 
greater  duty." 

"  What  a  greater  duty  ?  " 

Katherine  hesitated. 

"  To  go  there.  To  see  for  oneself.  To  try  and  restore 
what  one  can." 

"  Duty  never  lies  at  home,  my  dear,  we  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Massarene  with  sarcastic  acerbity.  "  I  suppose 
you'll  write  to  me  once  a  month  ;  and  if  anything  happens 
to  me  while  you're  away,  you'll  give  orders  as  they'll  lay 
me  by  your  poor  dear  father,  whom  you're  ashamed  on." 

Her  daughter  felt  that  her  path  of  duty,  whether  at 
home  or  abroad,  was  one  which  it  was  not  easy  to  discern 
in  the  gloaming  of  a  finite  humanity,  through  the  tangled 
brush- wood  of  conflicting  demands  and  principles. 

"  Won't  you,  can't  you  understand,  mother  ?  "  she  said, 
with  a  wistful  supplication  in  her  voice. 

"  No,"  replied  her  mother  sternly.  "  I  could  hev  under- 
stood if  you'd  held  your  head  high,  and  married  high, 
and  had  a  lot  of  nice  little  children  ;  but  a  freak  as  will 


THE  MASSAEENE8.  449 

make  you  the  laughing-stock  of  all  the  respectable  news- 
papers on  this  side  and  the  other,  I  don't  understand  and 
don't  want  to  understand ;  and  'tis  an  insult  to  poor 
William  in  his  grave." 

"I'm  not  speaking  for  myself,  my  dear,"  she  added; 
"  it's  very  good  of  you  not  to  hev  put  me  in  the  work- 
house." 

Katherine  felt  that,  though  duty  may  be  bracing  and 
fortifying,  it  strongly  resembles  a  cold  salt  bath  when  the 
thermometer  is  below  zero. 

She  spent  many  solitary  hours  walking  in  the  little  wood 
which  led  to  the  sea,  or  sitting  where  she  had  sat  with 
Framlingham,  thinking  over  the  immense  task  which  lay 
before  her,  and  wondering  how  it  was  best  to  execute  it. 
She  searched  her  heart  relentlessly  for  any  selfish  or  un- 
worthy motive  which  might  lurk  in  it.  All  alone  under 
the  pine  trees  as  she  was,  she  felt  herself  flash  with  con- 
sciousness as  she  asked  herself:  was  she  moved  by  any 
personal  desire  ?  She  felt  that  she  would  be  glad  to  vin- 
dicate herself  in  the  eyes  of  Hurstmanceaux — to  force  him 
to  acknowledge  that  one  basely  born  might  act  well  and 
with  honor.  She  longed  to  show  him  that  she  could  shake 
off  the  ill-gotten  wealth  which  he  despised  and  which  the 
world  adored.  Something  of  this  might  move  her — so 
much  her  conscience  compelled  her  to  admit — but  with 
perfect  honesty  she  could  also  feel  that,  had  she  never  seen 
him,  she  would  none  the  less  have  desired  to  undo,  as  far 
as  should  be  in  her  power,  the  evil  which  her  father  had 
done  to  the  poor  and  helpless. 

Again,  was  she  wronging  her  mother?  Was  she  leav- 
ing the  real  duty,  which  lay  close  at  hand,  for  the  imagi- 
nary duty,  which  lay  far  away  ?  She  knew  that  many  a 
dreamer  did  so ;  that  many  an  enthusiast  left  his  own  gar- 
den to  weed  and  drought,  whilst  he  went  to  sow  in  strange 
lands.  She  held  in  horror  the  religion  which  taught  that 
the  soul  should  be  saved,  however  the  hearth  and  home 
were  deserted. 

These  days  of  indecision  and  mental  conflict  were  days 

of  infinite  pain,  for  her  own  nature  was  resolute  and  not 

wavering,  and  to  such  a  temper  irresolution  seems  a  form 

of  cowardice.     Moreover  she,  who  had  read  widely  and 

29 


450  THE  MASSABENE8. 

thought  deeply,  knew  that  it  is  easier  to  move  the  moun- 
tains or  to  arrest  the  tides  than  it  is  to  do  any  real  good 
to  the  mass  of  mankind.  She  had  none  of  the  illusions  of 
the  socialist,  none  of  the  distorted  idealism  of  revolution- 
ists and  philanthropists;  she  was  not  sustained  by  any  er- 
roneous idolatry  of  humanity;  she  did  not  expect  the  seed 
she  would  sow  to  bring  forth  any  fruit  which  would  change 
the  face  of  Nature;  but  the  impulse  to  cast  from  her  the 
wealth  acquired  by  fraud,  by  violence,  and  by  usury,  was 
too  strong  in  her  for  her  to  be  able  to  resist  it. 

She  knew  that  what  she  wished  to  do  was  fraught  with 
innumerable  difficulties,  and  that  might,  unless  well  done, 
cause  more  evil  than  good.  She  had  hoped  to  find  in 
Framlingham  some  guidance,  some  help ;  but  she  saw  that 
she  must  rely  on  no  one  but  herself.  It  saddened  her  to 
know  that  it  was  so,  but  it  did  not  entirely  discourage  her. 
Conscience  is  a  lamp  which  burns  low  in  the  press  of  the 
world,  but  lights  clearly  enough  the  path  of  the  solitary. 

In  the  autumn  of  that  year,  sixteen  months  after  the 
death  of  William  Massarene,  she  sailed  from  Southampton 
for  that  dread  Northwest,  which  remained  in  the  memo- 
ries of  her  earliest  childhood  as  a  place  of  horror,  whose 
summer  meant  sandstorms,  and  drought,  and  sunstroke, 
and  the  whirling  of  the  mad  tornado,  and  the  scorching 
billows  of  the  forest  fires,  and  winter  meant  the  pall  of 
snow  on  hill  and  plain,  the  driving  of  the  dreadful  blizzard, 
the  lowing  of  starved  cattle,  the  mourning  of  famished 
wolves,  the  shapeless  heaps  upon  the  ice  which  were  the 
bodies  of  frozen  travelers  and  foundered  caravans. 

It  was  terrible  to  her  to  return  there,  and  behold  all 
which  she  must  see  there;  but  it  was  more  terrible  to  her 
to  remain  possessor  of  the  millions  which  had  been  ac- 
quired in  that  hell. 

"Why  can  that  young  woman  be  gone  to  America  ?  "  said 
Daddy  Gwyllian. 

"Gone  to  look  after  her  property,  I  presume,"  said 
Hurstmanceaux,  whom  he  addressed. 

"It  is  &joli  denier  to  look  after.  That  cad  was  second 
only  to  Vanderbilt  and  Pullman." 

"Why  will  you  always  talk  about  money,  Daddy?  It 
is  a  very  vulgar  habit." 


TEE  MASSARENES.  451 

"  Money's  like  robust  health,"  said  Daddy.  "  Vulgar  if 
you  like,  but  deuced  comfortable  to  those  who  have 
got  it." 

Hurstmanceaux,  as  he  walked  down  Pall  Mall  a  few 
moments  later,  felt  irrationally  disappointed  that  she  had 
gone  to  America.  No  doubt  she  had  gone  to  look  after 
her  property  there,  but  he  did  not  think  that  the  person 
he  had  seen,  with  her  large,  dark,  calm  eyes  and  her 
stately  grace,  ought  to  care  whether  those  millions  of  acres 
and  billions  of  dollars  diminished  or  increased.  If  her  at- 
titude and  expressions  in  his  presence  had  been  real,  and 
not  affected,  she  could  not  care.  He  regretted  that  he  had 
written  that  letter  to  her  from  Cowes.  It  had  been  writ- 
ten from  his  heart  on  a  generous  impulse ;  and  he  knew 
life  well  enough  to  know  that  our  generous  impulses  are 
the  costliest  of  all  our  indulgences. 

When  he  thought  also  of  all  which  she  might  know — 
which  she  certainly  must  suspect — of  the  sister  whom  he 
had  loved  so  well,  he  suffered  as  only  a  man  of  tender 
heart  and  sensitive  honor  can  suffer  when  wounded  in  his 
family  pride  and  his  natural  affections. 


452  THE  HASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIL 

WITH  the  following  March  London  saw  once  more  the 
Duchess  of  Otterbourne  carrying  her  graceful  presence  to 
Court  and  salon  and  theatre,  having  recovered  her  beauty 
and  with  it  her  spirits.  One  of  those  fortunate  incidents 
of  which  life  is  prodigal  to  its  favorites  had  happened.  An 
old  aunt  had  died  and  left  her  a  legacy  of  a  few  thousands ; 
enough  thousands  to  make  a  year  at  least  pass  smoothly, 
without  too  much  self-denial. 

She  was  pleased  to  have  a  little  ready  money,  indisputa- 
bly her  own,  which  had  come  to  her  in  a  most  respectable 
manner,  and  could  be  squandered  just  as  she  chose,  with- 
out the  interference  of  anybody.  Millions  do  not  really 
afford  you  the  smallest  satisfaction  if  somebody  stands 
over  you  to  see  how  you  spend  them. 

The  insolence  and  the  courage  of  her  character  brought 
her  back  to  the  scene  of  her  slavery  to  William  Massarene. 
She  felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  show  her  brother  that  she 
did  not  care  a  straw  for  his  condemnation,  and  to  prove  to 
society  in  general  that  her  position  was  unshaken.  Who 
could  tell  how  that  young  woman,  who  had  sent  her  the 
counterfoils  and  the  acceptances,  might  not  have  talked? 
Besides,  she  wished  to  see  her  children.  Her  affection  for 
them  was  genuine.  It  was  not  profound  or  unselfish,  it 
was  not  tender  or  ideal,  but  it  was  a  real  affection  in  its 
way;  and,  besides,  she  was  proud  of  them.  They  were 
the  handsomest  little  people  in  England ;  always  well  and 
always  strong.  Against  Jack  she  bore  a  grudge — unrea- 
soningly  and  unkindly — but  still,  she  wished  to  have  him 
with  her  in  London.  The  presence  of  the  little  duke  and 
his  brothers  and  sister  in  her  new  house  would  prove  to 
people  that  her  conduct  had  always  been  perfectly  correct. 

"  One  does  miss  one's  children  so  cruelly,"  she  said  to 
her  sister  Carrie,  who  answered:  "Yes,  one  does;  it  is 
like  losing  one's  dressing-bag." 

She  fully  expected  Hurstmanceaux  to  forbid  their  com- 
ing to  her,  but  he  left  the  matter  to  the  Ormes's  decision; 


THfi  MASSARENES.  453 

he  was  at  Faldon,  and  gave  no  opinion  one  way  or  the 
other.  To  her  intimate  friends  she  attributed  her  rupture 
with  him  to  his  extreme  severity  and  unkindness  about 
the  Otterbourne  diamonds  and  her  own  financial  affairs ; 
and,  as  she  was  always  a  popular  person,  and  he  never 
was,  her  version  was  accepted  and  circulated,  and  the 
opinion  of  the  world  was  indulgent  to  her. 

She  took  a  pretty,  furnished  house  in  Eaton  Place,  and 
resumed  the  life  which  she  had  led  when  Cocky,  like  a 
ministering  angel,  had  been  behind  her,  to  excuse  her  im- 
prudence and  share  her  extravagance.  The  Blenheims 
were  left  down  at  Whiteleaf,  but  Jack  and  his  brothers 
and  sister  were  brought  to  town. 

Boo,  wild  with  delight,  raced  upstairs  to  a  bedroom  on 
the  third  floor,  and  thought  that  altitude  a  seventh  heaven. 
Jack  was  dull ;  he  loved  the  country  and  hated  London, 
hated  it  doubly  now  that  he  had  lost  Harry,  and  he  felt 
sure  that  his  mother  was  the  cause  of  Harry's  disappear- 
ance. When  he  saw  the  Life  Guards  ride  down  through 
the  Park  to  Knightsbridge,  the  sight  made  him  very  sad, 
for  there  were  110  kind  dark  eyes  looking  at  him  with  a 
smile  in  them  from  under  the  shining  helmet. 

His  mother,  who  was  not  harassed  by  such  regrets,  was 
very  pleased  to  be  in  London  again  with  a  little  money  at 
her  back.  She  was  very  tenacious  of  her  social  position, 
and  she  knew  that  it  was  necessary  to  be  respectable  now 
and  then.  She  attended  the  first  Drawing-room ;  went 
to  the  first  receptions  of  some  tiresome  gros  bonnets  whom 
she  called  old  dowdies;  and  reascended  a  social  throne 
which  for  a  moment  had  shaken  under  her.  The  Chapel 
Royal  saw  her  every  Sunday,  and  she  began  to  think  of 
making  a  pleasant  second  marriage  before  Katherine  Mas- 
sarene  (who  might  spoil  one)  should  return  to  society. 

Harrenden  House  was  shut  up  ;  its  porter  alone,  stripped 
of  his  gorgeous  vestments,  dwelt  behind  the  gates  looking 
no  more  like  himself  than  a  grub  looks  like  a  butterfly. 
There  was  a  hatchment  above  the  door,  large,  imposing, 
majestic;  it  was  there  by  Margaret  Massarene's  wish  be- 
yond the  usual  time  to  have  it  shown.  All  the  great  peo- 
ple and  the  smart  people  who  had  dined  at  that  house, 
and  pocketed  cotillon  presents,  and  drunk  rare  wines,  and 


454  THE  MASSAEENES. 

borrowed  money  and  paid  it  by  insolent  jokes,  now  drove 
past  in  the  sunshine  or  the  fog,  in  the  north  wind  or  the 
east,  had  found  other  dupes  and  other  butts  for  their 
needs  and  their  jests,  and  did  not  even  give  a  thought  to 
"Billy." 

He  was  gone,  and  there  were  always  new  people  coming 
in  from  the  States  or  the  Colonies,  or  even  homemade, 
who  were  the  natural  manure  wherewith  to  nourish  starv- 
ing genealogical  trees. 

"  I  say,  Sourisette,  how  was  it  you  got  nothing  under 
Billy's  will?"  said  her  cousin  Roxhall  to  her  one  day  as 
they  rode  in  the  Park. 

"My  dear  Gerald,"  she  answered  with  dignity,  "/had 
not  sold  him  an  ancestral  estate.  If  I  had  done  so  I 
should  not  have  taken  it  back  as  a  gift  from  his  daughter 
as  you  have  done  !  " 

"Oh  I  say,"  muttered  Roxhall.  "That's  a  nasty  one, 
but  it  isn't  the  fact.  I've  paid  back  half  the  purchase 

Sice  and  the  other  half  is  on  the  land,  and  it's  not  you, 
ousie,  who  have  the  right  to  say  such  things." 

Roxhall's  mind  reverted  to  the  sale  of  Vale  Royal  at 
Homburg,  when  he  had  never  looked  too  closely  into  the 
percentage  received  by  the  fair  negotiatress  of  the  sale. 
They  were  speaking  as  they  rode  down  Rotten  Row,  and 
at  that  moment  her  mare  became  fidgety  and  carried  her 
out  of  earshot.  He  rode  after  her. 

"  You  think  you  can  say  those  things  to  me,"  he  said, 
leaning  a  little  toward  her,  "  because  I  am  a  relative,  and 
because  I  have  always  been  a  fool  about  you ;  but  don't 
you  put  people's  backs  up  like  that,  my  dear,  or  you'll  get 
more  than  you  like  some  day." 

"  My  dear  Gerald,"  said  Mouse  between  her  teeth,  "  fall 
back  a  little,  please ;  I  don't  care  to  be  seen  riding  with  a 
person  who  has  taken  alms  from  Miss  Massarene,  even  if 
he  is  my  cousin." 

She  was  not  afraid  to  be  insolent  to  him  ;  Roxhall  would 
be  no  use  any  more  to  her,  for  he  could  never  sell  Vale 
Royal  twice. 

Roxhall  checked  his  horse  and  let  her  groom  pass  Inm. 
This  was  the  woman  for  whom  he  had  nearly  broken  his 
•wife's  heart,  and  more  than  nearly  ruined  himself! 


THE  MASSARENES.  455 

"  What  a  confounded  ass  I  was  !  "  he  thought.  "  She 
isn't  worth  the  tan  that  her  rnare  kicks  up  ;  and  yet — and 
yet — oh,  Lord,  if  she  whistled  me  I  should  run  to  her  like 
a  dog,  I  know  I  should !  " 

He  was  a  clever  if  careless  man  of  the  world,  and  he 
was  sincerely  attached  to  his  wife,  but  he  had  been  as  wax 
in  the  hands  of  his  cousin  Mouse,  and  would  be  so  again, 
he  felt,  if  she  cared  to  make  him  so.  Neither  philosophy 
nor  psychology  can  explain  fascination  or  the  power  it  ex- 
ercises in  the  teeth  of  common  sense  and  to  the  root  of 
conscience. 

She,  who  believed  and  disbelieved  in  a  Higher  Power, 
as  most  people  do  according  to  the  favor  or  the  frown 
which  they  consider  the  Higher  Power  gives  them,  was  at 
this  moment  in  the  full  fervor  of  belief,  as  she  had  money 
enough  to  let  her  do  as  she  liked  for  a  year  or  two.  Rox- 
hall  could  not  touch  her  conscience ;  Hurstmanceaux 
could  not  rouse  her  shame  ;  the  sight  of  the  closed  gates 
of  Harrenden  House  could  not  disturb  that  serenity  which 
she  had  regained  so  successfully ;  but  something  did  occur 
which  momentarily  disturbed  and  almost  afflicted  her. 

Jack  had  been  usually  kept  down  at  Whiteleaf  with  his 
brothers ;  and  a  remote  Northamptonshire  country  house 
amongst  farmsteads,  streams,  and  orchards,  is  not  a  centre 
of  news.  No  word  or  sign  had  come  to  him  of  his  friend, 
and  in  his  occasional  visits  to  town  he  had  heard  nothing 
of  him.  Though  years  had  passed  since  Harry  had  bade 
him  good-bye  under  the  elm-tree,  and  children  are  usually 
forgetful,  with  little  minds  like  sieves,  Jack  did  not  cease 
to  lament  his  lost  friend.  If  he  had  been  sure  where 
Harry  had  gone,  he  would  have  tried  to  get  on  board  a 
ship  and  work  his  way  out  to  the  same  place,  like  the 
cabin-boys  he  read  of  in  story-books.  But  the  South  Pole 
was  a  vague  destination  ;  and  he  once  heard  some  men  say- 
ing, who  had  been  Harry's  friends,  that  he  was  now  in 
Uganda  or  Rhodesia.  It  was  all  so  vague  that  it  was 
impossible  to  plan  any  wanderings  and  voyages  on  such 
data. 

Mammy  must  know,  he  thought ;  but  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  ask  her.  He  had  a  vague  but  positive  sense  that 
Harry's  exile  and  disappearance  were  due  to  her;  that  she 


456  THE  MASSARENES. 

had  been  unkind  and  had  hurt  Harry  in  some  way  or  an- 
other  in  some  incurable  and  unmerciful  manner. 

When  Jack  saw  all  the  London  life  going  on  just  the 
same — the  Life  Guards  prancing,  the  ladies  cycling  or 
riding,  the  traffic  filling  up  the  streets,  the  carriages  flash- 
ing toward  the  Park — his  young  heart  ached  with  a  dull 
painful  sense  of  the  heartlessness  of  things.  Harry  had 
always  been  there  in  that  movement  and  glitter  and  rush ; 
and  now  he  was  no  more  seen,  and  no  one  cared,  not  even 
his  troop.  Once  he  went  up  to  Harry's  late  colonel,  whom 
he  knew  by  sight,  and  asked  straight  out  for  news  of  him. 
The  colonel  looked  surprised,  for  a  long  time  had  elapsed. 
"My  dear  boy,  I  don't  know  at  all  where  he  is  ;  he's  gone 
on  the  make  somewhere,  I  believe.  Out  of  sight,  out  of 
mind,  you  know,  more  shame  for  us." 

What  unkind,  indifferent  people  they  all  were,  thought 
Jack. 

But  in  the  middle  of  June,  when  he  was  on  his  visit  to 
his  mother,  there  was  a  telegram  in  a  morning  paper  which 
disinterred  the  buried  name  so  dear  to  him.  It  said,  in 
the  usual  niggard  brevity, "  Lord  Brancepeth  said  to  have 
been  severely  wounded  fighting  in  Loomalia." 

Now  Harry's  late  colonel  was  startled  by  that  telegram 
as  he  sat  at  luncheon  in  his  club ;  and  as  he  walked  an 
hour  later  across  the  Green  Park  he  chanced  to  meet  Jack 
and  his  tutor. 

"Look  here,  my  boy,"  he  said,  holding  out  the  news- 
paper. "  You  asked  me  once  about  this  friend  of  yours — " 

Jack  read  the  two  lines  through  starting  tears. 

"Thanks  very  much,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  and  took 
off  his  hat  to  the  colonel ;  then  he  said  to  Mr.  Lane,  "If 
you  please,  we  will  go  home." 

"  That  child's  a  good  plucked  one,"  thought  the  colonel. 
"It's  hit  him  hard." 

By  that  time  many  people  in  fashionable  London  had 
read  the  telegram,  and  were  talking  of  it. 

"Who  is  this  gentleman  about  whom  you  are  so  un- 
happy ?  "  asked  his  tutor,  who  knew  nothing  of  fashiona- 
ble society  and  its  rumors  and  traditions. 

Jack  felt  himself  color.  He  could  not  have  exactly 
analyzed  what  he  felt. 


THE  MASSARENES.  457 

"He's  Harry,"  lie  said  in  a  low  tone.  "He  was  always 
very  kind  to  us  ;  kinder  than  anyone." 

The  Colonial  Office  was  applied  to  for  information,  and 
the  Minister  for  the  Colonies  buttonholed  in  the  Lobby. 
The  Minister  was  chill  and  careful;  he  remarked  that 
Lord  Brancepeth  was  acting  as  an  amateur,  on  his  own 
responsibility — entirely  on  his  own  responsibility ;  he 
could  not  approve  his  action;  the  Loomalis  were  in  insur- 
rection; the  Boers  were  the  the  allies  of  England;  there 
were  treaties;  treaties  must  be  respected,  however  indi- 
viduals might  suffer;  the  Government  could  not  be  re- 
sponsible for  any  adventurous  gentleman  fighting  on  his 
own  hand. 

A  similar  answer  was  returned  to  Lord  Inversay  when 
he,  a  weary  arid  infirm  old  man,  came  up  to  town,  and 
went  to  the  Colonial  Office  and  to  the  Premier. 

A  little  later,  fuller  particulars  were  telegraphed  from 
the  newspaper  correspondents  at  Capetown,  and  then 
everybody  began  again  to  talk  of  Harry  at  the  dinner- 
tables,  and  club-houses,  and  pleasure  places  in  which  he 
had  been  once  such  a  familiar  figure. 

The  Boers  had,  as  usual,  made  an  excuse  of  an  imagi- 
nary transgression  of  boundary,  to  attack  a  friendly  tribe, 
of  which  they  were  bound  to  respect  the  neutrality.  They 
had  harried  and  ravaged  the  country,  carried  off  herds 
and  flocks,  burned  villages,  and  borne  off  to  servitude  old 
men,  women  and  children,  with  all  those  excesses  of  bar- 
barous brutality  which  invariably  characterize  the  intro- 
duction of  civilization  anywhere.  This  especial  tribe  was 
blameless,  willing  to  be  at  peace,  and  contented  to  live  in 
a  simple  and  natural  manner  with  the  harvests  of  a  boun- 
tiful soil.  But  that  soil  their  neighbors  wanted;  it  is  the 
story  of  every  war. 

Brancepeth  had  gone  as  a  traveler,  only  to  look  on ; 
but  he  was  soon  disgusted  by  the  cruelty  of  the  white 
men,  touched  by  the  helplessness  of  the  natives,  alienated 
by  the  avarice  and  violence  of  the  former,  and  moved  by 
the  rights  and  sufferings  of  the  latter.  He  had  gone  with 
no  intention  of  taking  a  share  in  the  strife ;  but  when  he 
saw  the  flaming  kraals,  the  ravaged  flocks,  the  fettered 
women,  the  starved  and  hunted  old  people  and  young 


458  THE  MASSARENES. 

children,  the  blood  of  a  soldier  grew  hot  in  him  ;  the  sense 
of  justice  uprose  in  him;  the  generosity  of  a  manly 
temper  impelled  him  to  take  part  with  the  weak,  the  op- 
pressed, the  natural  owners  of  the  vast  plains,  the  solemn 
mountains,  the  trackless  hills,  the  immense  waters.  He " 
drew  his  sword  on  their  side.  He  led  them  more  than 
once  to  victory.  If  he  had  had  a  single  troop  of  the  men 
he  had  commanded  at  home,  he  would  have  driven  the 
Dutchmen  back  over  their  own  veldt,  and  forced  them  to 
relinquish  their  prey.  But  the  poor  Loomalis  had  been 
already  exhausted,  demoralized,  hopelessly  weakened, 
when  he  had  first  come  into  their  land.  They  could  not 
second  his  efforts  or  comprehend  his  tactics.  Had  he  ar- 
rived a  month  earlier,  he  might  perhaps  have  saved  them. 
As  it  was,  he  could  only  die  with  them. 

He  had  fought  side  by  side  with  their  chief,  Mahembele, 
hewing  down  the  Boers  with  a  sabre  when  the  last  shots 
had  been  fired  from  his  revolver,  and  not  a  single  cartridge 
had  been  left. 

"  It  is  not  your  cause ;  go,  while  you  have  life,"  said  the 
African  to  him. 

"  I'll  be  damned  if  I  will,"  said  Brancepeth.  "  Right 
is  right,  and  the  right  is  on  your  side." 

So  he  fought  like  a  knight  of  old,  knee-deep  in  the  heap 
of  dead  he  had  slain,  and  he  fell  at  last  as  the  sun  went 
down,  pierced  by  a  score  of  wounds,  and  Mahembele 
dropped,  shot  through  the  forehead,  across  his  body. 

The  Boers  retreated  down  the  hillside — for  he  had 
mauled  them  terribly — and  a  few  of  the  Loomalis  ven- 
tured to  carry  off  the  body  of  their  chief  for  burial ;  and 
as  they  removed  it,  they  saw  that  the  white  leader  was 
not  dead  quite,  and  in  gratitude  they  bore  him  away  to  a 
cavern  in  the  rocks,  where  their  women  tended  him,  until 
months  afterwards  some  English  travelers,  hearing  of  his 
deeds  and  of  his  fate,  sought  him  out,  and  had  him  carried 
down  the  river  to  their  camp,  many  miles  away.  Thus  it 
became  known  who  he  was,  and  how  he  had  given  away 
his  life  for  these  poor  and  persecuted  people. 

The  story  moved  his  own  London  world  when  it  was 
told  in  the  columns  of  the  great  daily  papers.  Poor 


THE  MASSA&ERES.  459 

Harry  !  He  had  lived  like  a  fool,  but  he  had  ended  his 
life  like  a  hero. 

For  ended  it  surely  was;  he  might  rally,  he  might  even 
live  through  a  few  months,  a  few  years,  but  he  had  been 
shot  arid  slashed  like  a  desert  animal  slaughtered  and 
maimed  by  a  hundred  hands ;  he  would  never  breathe 
without  pain,  never  move  without  help,  never  stand  up- 
right again.  So  the  surgeon  who  was  with  him  tele- 
graphed to  his  father ;  and  the  Governor  at  Capetown  to 
the  Government  at  home. 

And  for  ten  minutes,  in  guardroom,  in  clubroom,  in 
drawing-room,  his  old  friends  were  sorry  and  spoke  of  him 
in  a  hushed  voice.  Only  the  Colonial  Office  was  annoyed, 
because  it  had  been  pledged  to  protect  the  Loomalis  and 
had  broken  its  word,  and  failed  them  in  their  need ;  and 
the  fact  that  one  English  gentleman  had  stood  by  these 
poor  Africans  to  the  last  disagreeably  emphasized  by  con- 
trast the  bad  faith  and  pusillanimity  of  England  as  an 
empire. 

The  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  like  the  Colonial  Office, 
was  much  shocked  and  displeased.  It  was  odious  to  have 
all  London  talking  of  Harry ;  it  would,  she  knew,  make 
people  remember  his  relations  with  herself. 

When  a  woman  has  ordered  a  man  out  of  her  life  she 
prefers  him  to  efface  himself  from  other  people's  lives. 
Harry  had  effaced  himself  and  gone  docily  into  oblivion, 
which  was  quite  right,  but  that  now  from  that  nether 
world  he  should  have  sent  a  clarion  blast  echoing  over  the 
seas,  as  if  he  were  one  of  Wagner's  heroes,  was  distinctly 
irritating.  Do  what  she  would,  too,  she  could  often  not 
sleep  for  thinking  of  him  with  his  body  hacked  to  pieces 
and  his  blood  staining  the  yellow  grass.  To  be  sure  she 
could  take  chloral,  but  she  was  very  prudent  as  regarded 
health,  and  she  knew  that  chloral  has  two  faces,  one  be- 
neficient  and  the  other  malevolent,  and  is  not  a  deity  to 
be  too  frequently  invoked. 

Meantime  he  was  coming  home  ;  every  day  the  vessel 
drew  nearer  and  nearer,  whether  it  brought  him  living  or 
brought  him  dead.  It  was  too  dreadfully  irritating  when 
she  had  been  relieved  from  the  incubus  of  William  Mas- 
sarene  to  have  this  revival  of  an  old  scandal. 


460  THE  MASSARENES. 

If  his  mother  had  said  a  word  to  her  eldest  son  about 
their  old  friend,  he  would  have  laid  his  head  on  her  lap 
and  sobbed  his  heart  out,  and  asked  her  why  she  had  sent 
him  to  Africa.  But  she  said  not  a  word.  He  saw  her  al- 
ways going  out  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  beautifully 
dressed  and  gay  and  bright ;  and  Jack  hated  her  for  her 
heartlessness  and  avoided  her,  which  was  easy  to  do,  for 
she  seldom  asked  for  him.  Boo  she  had  frequently  with 
her,  and  his  little  brothers  were  sometimes  taken  in  her 
carriage ;  but  for  Jack  she  scarcely  ever  inquired.  He 
was  left  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Lane.  Once  she  told  him  to 
go  as  a  page  to  a  cousin's  wedding,  the  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Cecil  Courcy,  and  Jack  bluntly  refused. 

"  I  won't  be  dressed  up  like  a  boy  in  a  pantomime,"  he 
said  to  Boo,  who  brought  him  the  order;  and  he  was 
steadfast  in  his  refusal,  for  how  could  he  know  that  Harry 
might  not  be  already  dead? 

"  You'd  get  a  diamond  pin,"  said  Boo. 

"  What  do  I  want  with  pins?  "  replied  Jack  with  scorn. 
"I  won't  be  made  a  guy  of;  I'd  sooner  be  a  real  page  and 
help  to  clean  the  plate." 

"  You  are  such  a  low  boy,  Jack,"  said  Boo  with  disdain. 
"  Mammy  always  says  so." 

Jack's  brows  clouded  at  his  mother's  name.  Was  he  a 
low  boy  ?  he  wondered.  He  did  not  think  so,  but  then 
his  tutor  had  told  him  that  no  one  has  any  knowledge  of 
themselves.  He  liked  real  things,  he  liked  people  who 
told  the  truth  ;  he  hated  being  called  "  your  Grace  "  ;  he 
loved  dogs  and  horses  ;  he  detested  fine  ladies  and  all  their 
perfumes  and  pranks  and  pastimes;  perhaps  he  was  a  very 
low  boy  indeed. 

Jack,  after  the  colonel  had  shown  him  that  telegram, 
bought  up  all  the  newspapers  he  could  (when  he  was  not 
watched),  and  read  them  with  difficulty  where  the  words 
were  long,  and  understood  that  his  friend  had  been  behav- 
ing like  a  knight  of  old.  How  his  heart  ached,  and  how  his 
blood  thrilled !  One  thing  too  added  greatly  to  his  pain  ; 
the  news  was  more  than  four  months  old.  Intelligence 
traveled  slowly  from  the  land  of  the  Loomalis,  and  people 
did  so  also.  He  could  not  tell  at  all  how  his  friend  was 
on  these  especial  days  when  he,  himself  seated  on  his  own 


THE  MASSARENES.  461 

bed  to  be  undisturbed,  devoured  the  chronicles  from  Cape- 
town in  one  London  journal  after  another.  Jack  had 
heard  enough  about  wounds  from  shot  and  sabre  to  know 
that  they  were  often  mortal,  and  that  recovery,  if  it 
ensued,  was  terribly  tedious  and  slow,  and  often  too  un- 
certain. 

In  his  ignorance  and  unhappiness  he  took  a  bold  step. 
He  wrote  to  Harry's  father,  whom  he  did  not  know.  He 
composed  a  letter  "  all  out  of  his  own  head." 

"  The  Duke  of  Otterbourne  presents  his  compliments  to 
Lord  Inversay  and  wishes  very  much  if  you  would  tell  him 
where  Harry  is,  and  if  it  is  true  that  he  is  hurt  amongst 
blackmen.  I  am  so  very  very  anxious,  and  I  want  you  please 
to  tell  me,  and  no  one  knows  that  the  Duke  of  Otterbourne  is 
writing  to  you,  so  please  dorft  say,  and  excuse  these  blots  • 
please  answer  soon,  and  I  am  your  very  affectionate  Jack" 

When  he  had  read  it  over  it  seemed  to  him  not  alto- 
gether right ;  he  was  afraid  it  was  ungrammatical,  but  he 
could  not  tell  where  the  mistakes  were,  and  he  put  it  in 
an  envelope  and  addressed  it  to  the  Marquis  of  Inversay, 
looking  out  the  address  in  the  big  red  book  so  dear  to 
Mrs.  Massarene,  and  sealing  it  with  a  seal  lent  him  by  his 
friend  Hannah,  bearing  the  device  of  two  doves  and  a 
rose. 

The  little  note  would  have  gone  to  the  heart  of  Harry's 
father,  and  would  have  certainly  been  answered,  but,  as 
Jack's  unlucky  star  would  have  it,  his  mother  espied  his 
letter  lying  on  the  hall  table  with  her  own,  and  seeing  the 
address  in  the  big  childish  caligraphy,  took  it,  opened  it, 
and  consigned  it  in  atoms  to  the  waste-paper  basket. 

She  was  agitated  and  irritated  in  an  extreme  degree 
by  its  perusal.  What  would  old  Inversay  think  if  he 
got  such  a  note?  He  would  actually  think  that  Jack 
knew  !  She  was  beyond  measure  annoyed  and  alarmed  to 
see  this  impudent  little  fellow  daring  to  act  and  to  write 
all  by  himself. 

In  her  own  way  she  was  herself  worried  about  Harry, 
although  she  concealed  her  worry  successfully;  it  pained 
her  to  think  of  his  wounds  and  his  danger ;  her  anxiety 


462  THE  MASSARENES. 

did  not  prevent  her  from  going  to  theatres  and  operas, 
and  pastoral  plays  and  dinner  parties,  and  State  concerts 
and  all  the  rest  of  it;  but  still  the  thought  of  him  hurt 
her,  and  no  doubt  he  would  come  home  arid  be  made  a 
pet  of  by  everybody,  and  be  sent  for  to  Windsor,  and  it 
would  all  be  rather  worrying,  and  malapropos,  and  per- 
haps some  woman  would  get  hold  of  him — women  are  al- 
ways mad  about  heroes — and  then  that  woman  would 
make  him  talk  of  herself. 

She  said  nothing  about  his  letter  to  Jack,  who,  after 
watching  with  eagerness  for  the  post  in  vain  for  a  week, 
sadly  decided  that  Lord  Inversay  must  have  been 
offended  with  a  stranger  for  writing  to  him.  He  did  not 
say  anything  about  his  disappointment  to  anyone,  for  Jack 
had  already  learned  that  our  sorrows  only  bore  other  peo- 
ple. But  he  got  all  the  newspapers  he  could  and  searched 
through  them  every  day.  Once  he  saw  that  Lord  Brance- 
peth  had  been  brought  down  from  the  interior,  and  had 
been  carried  on  board  a  homeward-bound  steamer  at 
Capetown,  and  although  very  weak  and  shattered,  it  was 
considered  possible  the  voyage  might  save  him,  arid  that 
he  might  rally  on  reaching  his  native  air. 

Through  all  those  weeks  of  uncertainty  Jack  was  per- 
petually punished  by  Mr.  Lane  for  inattention,  for  dis- 
obedience, for  neglected  tasks,  for  unlearnt  lessons,  for 
bad  spelling,  for  saying  that  two  and  three  made  seven, 
and  that  Caractacus  was  Julius  Caesar's  brother.  The 
child's  thoughts  were  far  away  on  the  big  green  rollers  of 
the  ocean  on  which  the  vessel  which  bore  his  friend  home- 
ward was  rocking  and  panting.  What  sort  of  weather 
was  it  ?  were  the  winds  kind  and  the  waves  gentle  ?  were 
the  hot  calms  he  had  read  of  very  trying?  did  Harry 
suffer  when  the  ship  pitched  ?  Those  were  the  questions 
he  was  always  asking  himself,  and  to  which  he  could  have 
no  answer;  and  he  began  to  grow  thin  and  pale  and 
seemed  a  hopelessly  naughty  and  unteachable  little  boy 
to  Mr.  Lane,  who  could  beat  nothing  whatever  into  his 
head,  and  who,  being  a  very  conscientious  person,  wrote 
to  Hurstmanceaux  that  he  feared  he  should  be  obliged  to 
relinquish  his  charge. 

"  Don't  encourage  the  duke  in  his  fancies  for  Africa, 


THE  MASSARENES.  4C3 

Mr.  Lane,  or  we  shall  have  him  Africa  mad  like  them  all, 
and  running  off  to  Cecil  Rhodes,"  his  mother  said  once 
jestingly  to  his  tutor ;  and  although  that  gentleman  was 
not  used  to  smart  ladies  and  their  way  of  talking  au  bout 
des  levres,  he  understood  that  the  subject  of  the  Black 
Continent  was  disagreeable  to  her.  But  the  time  came 
when  she  was  forced  to  think  about  Africa  herself. 

One  day,  rather  early  in  the  forenoon,  when  she  was 
alone,  they  brought  in  to  her  the  card  of  Lord  Inversay, 
She  was  extremely  astonished  and  somewhat  embarrassed. 
Harry's  father  had  never  set  foot  in  her  house — she  did 
not  even  know  him  to  speak  to;  he  had  always  obsti- 
nately avoided  both  her  and  her  husband ;  he  was  poor  and 
unfashionable,  a  man  seldom  seen  in  the  smart  world,  and 
who  lived  almost  all  the  year  round  on  his  estates  on  the 
Border. 

For  the  moment  she  was  inclined  not  to  receive  him, 
then  curiosity  conquered  the  vague  apprehension  which 
moved  her.  Moreover,  she  recollected  with  a  chill  that 
the  newspapers  had  spoken  of  Harry  as  returning  home  ; 
was  it  possible  that  he  had  sent  her  a  message  ? 

Inversay  entered  her  presence  without  ceremony ;  he 
was  a  weary-looking  man  about  sixty,  and  the  expression 
of  his  face  was  cold  and  greatly  troubled ;  he  declined 
with  a  gesture  her  invitation  to  a  seat  beside  her,  and 
continued  standing.  She  looked  at  him  with  the  sense  of 
apprehension  weighing  more  heavily  upon  her. 

"  To  what  am  I  indebted  ?  "  she  began. 

"  Madam,"  said  Inversay  very  coldly,  though  his  voice 
was  husky  and  almost  inaudible,  "  I  bring  you  a  request 
from  my  son ;  he  has  come  home  to  die." 

"  To  die  ?     Harry  ?  " 

She  grew  very  pale  ;  there  were  genuine  horror  and 
emotion  in  the  cry,  if  there  was  also  some  personal  terror 
of  a  baser  kind  ;  dying  men  are  so  garrulous  sometimes! 

She  was  not  unprepared  for  such  a  statement,  but  its 
clear  and  hard  expression,  as  of  an  unalterable  fact,  gave 
her  a  great  shock. 

Poor  silly  Harry  ! 

" Madam,"  said  his  father,  "you  may  be  quite  sure  that 
nothing  short  of  the  greatest  extremity  would  have 


464  THE  MASSARENES. 

brought  me  to  your  house.  He  is  dying,  I  repeat.  I 
doubt  if  he  can  live  an  hour  longer ;  that  he  can  live  a 
day  is  impossible." 

"  How  very  horrible !  "  she  said  nervously ;  she  trem- 
bled visibly,  she  felt  that  Inversary  intended  to  insult  her, 
and  she  had  not  courage  to  resent  and  reprove  it.  Harry 
dying!  Such  a  possibility  had  presented  itself  to  her, 
and  she  had  thoughts,  even  when  she  had  read  in  the 
papers  that  he  was  coming  home  wounded,  that  perhaps 
he  would  be  better — safer — dead;  but  now  that  the  actual 
tragedy  of  his  end  was  brought  home  to  her,  it  seemed  to 
her  extremely  dreadful. 

Poor  Harry  ! 

He  was  only  a  year  older  than  herself ! 

Inversay  looked  at  her  with  loathing  and  hatred.  But 
for  her  what  a  happy  and  simple  life  his  boy  might 
have  led  ! 

"  I  have  a  favor  from  you  to  ask  for  in  his  name,"  he 
said  huskily;  "nothing  less  could  have  made  me  leave 
him.  But  he  cannot  die  in  peace  if  he  cannot  see  your 
son,  the  eldest  boy  ;  he  would  like  to  see  all  the  children." 

She  checked  the  nervous  tremor  in  her  limbs  and 
braved  herself  to  combat  and  composure ;  she  felt  all  that 
the  stern  eyes  of  the  old  man  said  to  her  while  his  lips 
limited  themselves  to  those  few  harmless  words. 

"  He  was  always  very  fond  of  the  children,"  she  said 
quite  naturally,  with  marvellous  self  possession.  "  But  I 
don't  think  I  can  send  them  to  see  him  ;  it  would  look  so 
very  odd;  and  a  deathbed  frightens  small  boys  so  much; 
Jack  was  ill  for  weeks  after  seeing  his  father  die." 

This  tremendous  falsehood  glided  smoothly  off  her  lips 
in  the  purposed  introduction  of  her  husband's  name. 

Inversay  moved  a  step  nearer  to  her,  and  the  scathing 
scorn  of  his  gaze  would  have  struck  to  the  earth  a  woman 
less  sure  of  herself,  less  safe  in  the  surety  of  duplicity, 
less  confident  in  the  silence  of  the  dying  man  who  had  her 
reputation  in  his  hands. 

"  Madam,"  he  said  with  a  bitter  scorn  and  wrath  un- 
spoken, "  my  son  may  breathe  his  last  whilst  you  make 
me  dawdle  here.  Let  your  eldest  boy  come  with  me  at 
once — at  once — do  you  hear?  " 


THE  MASSARENES.  465 

"Lord  Brancepetli  was  very  fond  of  all  children,"  she 
said  again,  a  little  nervously,  "but  it  will  seem  very  odd 
to  people— 

"  He  loved  yours,  madam,"  said  Inversay  curtly ;  the 
three  words  cut  her  pride  like  a  sword ;  seemed  to  bear 
down  through  all  her  hypocrisies  and  falsehoods  and 
devices  as  she  had  seen  the  sabres  of  Harry's  troopers  cut 
through  a  veil  of  gauze  and  sever  a  lemon  in  two. 

"  Send  for  your  son,"  he  said  with  stern  passion.  "  Send 
at  once,  madam  ;  do  you  hear  me?" 

She  was  awed,  and  quailed  under  his  fixed  gaze.  She 
did  not  dare  to  refuse  his  command,  strange  as  the  thing 
would  look.  She  rang,  and  to  the  servant  who  entered 
said: 

"Tell  Mr.  Lane  to  come  to  me,  and  to  bring  his 
Grace." 

A  moment  or  two  later  the  tutor  came  into  the  room, 
and  Jack  also. 

"  Jack,  you  are  to  go  with  this  gentleman  where  he 
wishes  to  take  you.  Mr.  Lane,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to 
accompany  the  duke  and  bring  him  home?" 

"  Where  are  we  going  to  ?  "  asked  Jack,  as  they  went 
downstairs ;  he  did  not  know  who  Lord  Iversay  was,  but 
he  was  a  little  afraid  of  the  strained  stern  look  on  the 
old  man's  face;  he  felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  some 
great  grief,  and  his  thoughts  flew  to  Harry,  vaguely  hoping 
and  fearing  he  knew  not  what. 

"  You  will  soon  know,"  said  Inversay,  whose  voice  was 
choked  in  his  throat  as  he  looked  at  the  handsome  child 
with  the  soft  black  eyes,  so  like  the  eyes  of  another  boy 
of  the  same  age  who,  twenty  years  or  so  before  this  day, 
had  run  beside  him  over  the  sunny  lawns  of  his  old  home ; 
the  old  home  was  mortgaged  to  its  last  sod,  and  the  boy 
had  come  home  in  the  flower  of  his  manhood  to  die — 
ruined  by  a  woman. 

They  were  driven  quickly  to  the  door  of  a  well-known 
hotel ;  Inversay  begged  the  tutor  to  wait  below  in  the 
reading-room,  and  went  alone  upstairs  with  Jack,  who 
caught  his  breath  and  felt  his  heart  quake  a  little. 

A  vague  terror  had  seized  him  ;  he  recalled  all  the  papers 
had  said  of  the  fighting  in  Loomalia* 

30 


466  THE  MASSARENES. 

Was  it,  perhaps ?  The  child's  warm  blood  turned 

cold. 

Before  the  closed  door  of  a  bedroom  Inversay  paused. 

"  It  is  someone  you  like  who  is  very  ill,"  he  said  in  a 
broken  voice.  "  Don't  be  frightened  and  don't  cry  out, 
for  heaven's  sake." 

He  opened  the  door  and  motioned  to  the  boy  to  precede 
him  and  enter.  I 

There  were  two  bay  windows  in  the  chamber,  they  were 
open,  and  the  light  shone  on  to  the  bed  where  an  emaci- 
ated form  was  lying,  a  hand  wasted  and  bony  lay  on  the 
coverlid,  a  face,  which  had  a  ghastly  beauty  in  it,  was 
like  marble  on  the  snow  of  the  pillows ;  some  women,  his 
mother  and  sisters,  were  kneeling  beside  the  bed. 

"  Harry  !  "  cried  the  child  with  a  shrill  scream,  and  swift 
as  the  wind  he  sprang  across  the  room  and  leaped  on  the 
bed  and  covered  the  cold  still  face  with  kisses. 

"  Oh,  Harry,  Harry,  wake  up  !  "  he  sobbed.  "  Oh,  speak 
to  me,  Harry.  Look  at  me.  It's  Jack,  it's  Jack,  that's 
here!" 

His  voice  found  its  way  to  the  fading  memories  of  the  dy- 
ing man;  Harry's  closed  eyes  opened  and  smiled  at  him. 

"  You  dear  little  beggar !  "  he  murmured.  "  How  you're 
grown !  I'm  glad— 

His  strengthless  hands  tried  to  clasp  the  child  and  draw 
him  closer. 

"I've  left  you  Cuckoopint,  Jack,"  he  said  faintly. 
44  Don't  forget — what  I  told  you — in  the  Park.  Try  and 
grow  like  your  uncle  Ronnie.  He'll  help  you  to  keep 
straight." 

His  voice  was  scarce  louder  than  a  breath ;  his  feeble 
heart  was  straining  to  force  the  blood  through  its  vessels, 
the  tired  eyelids  fell,  and  closed  once  more. 

They  gave  him  oxygen  and  he  revived  slightly,  enough 
to  know  that  Jack's  head  was  lying  on  the  pillow  by  his 
own  and  that  Jack's  arm  was  round  his  throat. 

"Don't  cry,"  he  murmured.  "  Kiss  the  others  for  me. 
They  never  cared  as  you  did." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  only  broken  by  the  passionate 
sobbing  of  the  child  and  the  subdued  weeping  of  those 
present. 


THE  MASSARENES.  467 

"Keep  clear  of  women,  Jack,n  he  said  huskily,  pain- 
fully, as  he  tried  to  draw  the  boy  still  closer.  "  Tell  your 
mother — no — never  mind.  Thank  her  for  letting  you 
come.  Where  are  you,  dear  ?  I  can't  see  you.  Kiss  me 
again." 

Then  his  mouth  opened,  gasping,  and  his  last  breath 
passed  out  into  the  summer  air. 

He  had  died,  silent,  as  a  gentleman  must 


468  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

WHEN  Jack  entered  his  mother's  house  that  afternoon 
he  looked  as  if  he  had  left  boyhood  behind  him  for  ever. 
His  face  was  drawn  and  pinched,  his  eyes  were  swollen 
with  weeping,  his  rosy  mouth  was  pale  and  compressed. 

"  His  Grace  is  to  go  to  the  duchess  at  once,  and  alone, 
if  you  please,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  servants. 

"  Go  upstairs  to  your  mother,"  said  Mr.  Lane  to  the 
child. 

But  Jack  stood  irresolute,  his  hands  clenched  involun- 
tarily, his  breath  was  uneven. 

"  Go,"  repeated  his  tutor. 

Jack  obeyed,  and  mounted  the  staircase  with  slow,  un- 
willing steps ;  his  heart  was  aching  as  it  had  never  ached 
in  his  life. 

"It's  hit  him  hard,  hasn't  it,  sir?"  said  the  servant  to 
the  tutor,  and  smiled  a  discreet  but  eloquent  smile. 

Mr.  Lane  seemed  not  to  hear,  and  went  into  the  study ; 
the  boy  passed  out  of  sight  amongst  the  heaths  and  poin- 
settias  on  the  staircase,  a  stray  pale  London  sunbeam 
following  his  golden  head.  His  mother  was  alone. 

She  was  seated  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  with  her 
back  to  the  little  light  there  was.  She  looked  haggard 
and  apprehensive. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  she  said  in  a  low,  awed  tone ;  she  knew 
he  was  by  the  face  of  her  little  son.  "Is  he  dead,  dear?" 

Jack  looked  at  her  in  silence ;  his  eyes  had  a  serious- 
ness in  them  which  was  rather  a  man's  than  a  child's, 
stern,  scornful,  reproachful. 

"Jack,  don't  stare  like  that!  Speak  to  me!  Is  Harry 
dead?" 

As  she  spoke  she  crossed  the  distance  between  them  and 
tried  to  take  the  child  in  her  embrace ;  she  was  alarmed 
and  nervous.  What  had  the  dying  man  said  ? 

Jack  recoiled  from  her  outstretched  arms  and  continued 
to  look  at  her  with  the  gaze  she  sought  to  evade. 


THE  MASSARENE8.  469 

His  expression  terrified  her  extremely  ;  what  could  the 
boy  know  that  he  was  old  enough  to  understand? 

"  Jack,  darling,  speak  to  me,"  she  said  faintly. 

"  I— I — don't  know  much,"  said  the  child  slowly  in  a 
voice  which  seemed  no  more  his  own.  "I  don't — know — • 
much;  but  I  think  you  are  a  wicked,  wicked,  wicked 
woman.  And  you  killed  him." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  any  answer  or  remonstrance, 
Jack  turned  his  back  on  her  and  went  slowly  to  the  door. 

His  mother  was  agitated  beyond  expression  ;  she  was 
for  the  moment  paralyzed  and  could  think  of  nothing 
which  she  could  do  or  say.  She  let  her  son  pass  out  of 
the  room  wMiout  censure  or  inquiry  or  punishment.  She 
threw  herself  down  upon  the  cushions  of  a  couch  and  wept. 

Her  sorrow  was  real  for  the  moment.  As  far  as  she 
had  ever  really  cared  for  any  one  in  a  sense  of  tenderness, 
she  had  loved  Harry.  But  it  was  not  long  before  her 
grief  gave  way  to  violent  indignation.  How  ungenerous, 
how  ungentlemanlike,  it  had  been  of  him  to  speak  ill  of 
her  to  her  child  ! 

She  had  no  doubt  that  he  had  done  so,  for  it  never  oc- 
curred to  her  that  Jack's  active  mind  had  unaided  ar- 
rived at  its  just  estimate  of  herself,  and  that  the  instincts 
of  the  boy  had  made  him  see  in  her  the  true  assassin  of 
his  dear  dead  friend. 

The  bitterness  of  her  anger  dried  the  well  springs  of 
her  grief.  When  she  felt  herself  injured,  she  always 
thought  that  the  whole  world  should  rise  up  and  do  battle 
for  her.  For  a  man  base  enough  to  set  her  son  against 
her  there  could  be  no  occasion  to  mourn  ;  especially  when 
to  mourn  would  compromise  her  before  others.  She  had 
no  anxiety  about  what  correspondence  Harry  might  have 
left  behind  him,  for  when  he  had  gone  to  Africa  he  had 
sent  her  all  her  letters  arid  other  mementoes.  She  or- 
dered her  carriage  and  drove  into  the  Park  as  usual ;  then 
she  dined  early  at  a  club  with  some  friends,  and  did  a 
theatre,  and  went  afterward  with  a  merry  party  to  supper 
at  the  Papillons  Club. 

That  is  how  Helen  mourns  for  Paris  nowadays. 

The  obligation  to  laugh  a  little  louder  than  usual  for  fear 
people  should  suppose  you  are  sorry;  a  little  shiver  of 


470  THE  MASSARENES. 

regret  when  you  are  coming  home  alone  in  your  broug- 
ham ;  a  few  drops  more  chloral  than  usual  when  you  do 
get  home — these  are  the  only  sacrifices  that  need  to  be 
made  on  the  funeral  pyre  of  the  lover  of  to-day. 

Jack  did  not  sleep  all  night.  He  had  sobbed  himself 
into  a  heavy,  agitated  slumber  as  the  day  dawned,  and 
his  tutor  had  given  orders  that  he  should  not  be  disturbed.  ' 
When  he  had  risen,  had  bathed,  and  been  dressed,  it  was 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  and  he  slipped  out  of  sight 
of  his  servant,  and  instead  of  going  to  breakfast  with  Mr. 
Lane  ran  out  of  the  house  and  came  to  seek  his  uncle 
Ronald,  who  happened  to  be  in  town  on  business;  he 
was  seldom  in  town  for  anything  else.  As  Hurstman- 
ceaux  opened  the  hall  door  of  his  rooms  to  go  down  into 
the  street,  he  saw  with  surprise  the  figure  of  a  boy  in 
sailor  clothes  standing  on  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  Is  that  you,  Jack  ?  "  he  said,  recognizing  his  nephew. 
"  You  don't  look  well.  Is  anything  the  matter?  " 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  ?  "  said  Jack,  standing  on  the 
threshold  with  his  sailor  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  Certainly — come  in,"  replied  Hurstmanceaux,  sur- 
prised to  see  the  boy  unaccompanied.  "  Are  you  alone  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Jack;  and  he  came  and  stood  before  his 
uncle ;  his  face  was  grave,  his  eyes  had  dark  circles  under 
them  ;  he  looked  very  still,  pale,  and  spiritless. 

"  Harry  is  dead,"  he  said  heavily,  with  a  strange  hope- 
less tone  in  his  voice. 

"I  have  heard  so,"  replied  Ronald,  coldly  and  unfeel- 
ingly, as  he  felt.  "Is  that  what  you  have  come  to  say?" 

"No,"  said  Jack.  "  I  have  come  to  tell  you  I  will  not 
live  with  my  mother  any  longer." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  called  her  formally  mother. 
Hurstmanceaux  looked  at  him  in  great  surprise. 

"  That  is  a  very  grave  statement,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  you  have  no  will  of  your  own  ? 
You  are  a  minor." 

Jack  was  silent,  but  his  face  grew  very  resolute  ;  his 
uncle  saw  that  he  was  in  earnest. 

"You  wish  to  live  no  longer  with  your  mother?"  said 
Ronald  slowly.  "  May  I  ask  your  reasons  ?  " 

"  I   shall  not    tell  my   reasons,"  said  Jack  haughtily, 


THE  MASSARENES.  471 

with  the  color  coming  back  into  his  face,  hotly  and  pain- 
fully. 

Hurstmanceaux  appreciated  the  answer ;  it  did  not  anger 
him  as  it  would  have  done  most  men. 

"  Did  you  see  Lord  Brancepeth  before  he  died  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  to  say  this  ?  " 

"No." 

Jack's  lips  quivered,  but  he  manfully  strove  not  to  cry. 

Hurstmanceaux  was  perplexed.  He  dimly  perceived 
the  workings  of  the  boy's  mind,  and  he  sympathized  with 
them  ;  but  he  could  not  let  his  sympathy  be  shown. 

"Put  me  down  in  the  country  somewhere,"  said  Jack, 
seeing  his  auditor  was  with  him.  "  I  don't  want  grooms, 
and  watches,  and  dressing-cases,  and  rubbish ;  I  want  to 
be  alone  down  in  the  country." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Ronald,  "  what  is  this  new  idea  ? 
Why  do  you  want  to  bury  yoiirself  in  a  hermitage  at  your 
age  ?  I  am  not  your  only  guardian,  Jack.  There's  Lord 
Augustus." 

"  Then  send  me  to  school,"  said  Jack  desperately. 
"  People  as  young  as  I  go  to  schools.  I  tell  you,"  he 
added,  and  his  teeth  were  shut  tight  as  he  said  it,  "  I  tell 
you,  I  will  not  live  with  her" 

Hurstmanceaux  was  silent,  extremely  perplexed,  but 
moved  to  more  feeling  for  the  boy  than  he  had  ever  felt. 

"  I  will  not  live  with  her"  Jack  repeated  between  his 
teeth.  "  I  know  I  am  a  minor  at  present  and  that  you 
can  lock  me  up,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  if  you 
make  me  live  with  her  I  will  kill  myself.  A  quite  little 
boy,  littler  than  I,  killed  himself  the  other  day,  only  be- 
cause his  pensum  was  too  hard.  It  was  put  in  the  papers. 
It  is  quite  easy,  and  it  doesn't  hurt — much." 

Hurstmanceaux  was  still  silent.  Other  men  would 
have  seized  the  occasion  to  point  out  the  unlawfulness  of 
suicide,  but  he  refrained  from  any  rebuke.  He  saw  that 
the  boy  was  in  that  kind  of  mood  when  nothing  which  is 
said  in  censure  can  pierce  through  the  heavy  fog  of  a  dull 
despairing  sorrow  :  the  fog  can  only  be  penetrated  by  the 
sunshine  of  sympathy. 


472  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  You  don't  like  me,  do  you,  Jack  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

Jack  was  silent  through  truthfulness  and  courtesy. 

"  If  you  did,"  said  Hurstmariceaux,  "  I  would  take  you 
to  live  with  me  at  Faldon,  and  give  you  an  Oxford  friend 
of  mine  for  a  tutor;  I  don't  like  the  man  you  have. 
This  is  of  course  subject  to  Lord  Augustus's  approval. 
Would  Faldon  suit  you,  if  he  did  not  disapprove  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack  rather  coldly.  "  He  told  me  to  try 
and  grow  up  like  you ;  so  I  suppose  he  would  have  liked 
me  to  live  with  you." 

"  Who  said  that  ?  " 

"  He  did— Harry." 

Hurstmanceaux  felt  an  embarrassment  which  Jack  was 
quick  to  perceive. 

He  moved  a  little  nearer  to  his  uncle  with  the  first  im- 
pulse of  confidence  he  had  ever  shown  in  him. 

"He  gave  me  Cuckoopint,"  he  said,  with  the  tears 
gushing  from  his  eyes.  "  The  cob  Cuckoopint.  May  he 
go  to  Faldon?  But  I'll  groom  him  myself,  if  you  please. 
I  want  to  be  a  man,  not  a  fool.  He  told  me  to— 

Then  Jack's  voice  broke  down  with  a  great  sob  in  his 
throat. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  in  a  suffocated  voice,  and 
turned  that  Hurstmanceaux  should  not  see  his  grief. 

"I  think  you  will  be  a  man,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  as  he 
laid  his  hand  on  the  child's  shoulder.  "  Don't  sob  so.  It 
will  vex  your  friend — if  he  knows." 

"  Yes ;  but  will  he  know  ?  "  cried  Jack  wildly.  "  Will 
any  one  tell  him  I  remember?  Oh,  I  loved  him  !  "  cried 
the  boy  with  a  piteous  wail.  "  And  she  killed  him  ;  she 
killed  him,  I  am  sure  !  " 

"Hush!"  said  Hurstmanceaux.  "You  are  not  old 
enough  to  judge  of  these  things.  I  am  very  sorry  for  you, 
for  you  are  too  young  to  have  so  much  pain.  Look, 
Ossian,  too,  is  sorry.  He  is  coming  up  to  you.  Lie  down 
on  that  bearskin,  and  try  to  compose  yourself.  I  will  do 
all  I  can  for  you.  You  do  not  like  me,  I  know,  but  I 
think  you  feel  you  can  trust  me." 

Jack  made  a  sign  of  assent ;  his  face  was  hidden  in  his 
hands. 

"  My  poor  boy,  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  said  Hurstmafl- 


THE  MASSARENES.  473 

ceaux,  whose  own  voice  was  unsteady.  u  Whatever  Lord 
Brancepeth's  life  may  have  been,  its  end  was  that  of  a 
hero.  Think  of  that,  dear,  always.  You  cannot  have 
better  or  truer  consolation." 

Alberic  Orme,  whom  Hurstmanceaux  always  consulted, 
approved  the  project,  and  Lord  Augustus  had  found  that 
the  easiest  way  for  his  own  convenience  of  discharging 
his  duties  to  his  wards  was  to  say  in  a  benign  ecclesias- 
tical manner  :  "  My  dear  Hurstmanceaux,  I  have  every 
confidence  in  your  judgment.  Whatever  you  decide  I 
shall  ratify,  secure  that  in  such  acquiescence  will  lie  my 
best  provision  for  the  welfare  of  my  poor  nephew's  chil- 
dren." 

Therefore  he  made  but  little  difficulty  in  allowing 
Jack's  residence  to  be  moved  to  Faldon,  and  a  new  tutor 
substituted  for  the  learned  gentleman  who  had  on  his  part 
found  the  little  duke  insupportable.  Cuckoopint  went 
also  to  Faldon  ;  and  Jack,  by  his  own  wish,  was  instructed 
in  the  stable  science  of  bedding,  feeding,  grooming  and 
watering. 

Of  course  Jack  was  only  a  boy,  and  his  spirits  came 
back  to  him  in  time,  and  his  laugh  rang  through  the  old 
oak  hall  of  his  uncle's  house,  but  he  did  not  forget.  He 
never  forgot. 

When  he  had  been  left  alone  for  the  night  he  got  up  in 
his  bed,  and  knelt  on  it,  and  said  in  a  whisper,  for  fear  his 
servant  who  slept  in  the  next  room  should  hear : 

"  Please  God,  be  good  to  Harry,  and  tell  him  I  remem- 
ber." 

O  fair  illusion ;  fair,  however  false !  Happy  is  the 
dead  soul  which  has  left  its  image  enshrined  in  the  tender 
heart  of  a  child  ! 


474  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

i  "  WE  are  here,"  wrote  Boo  to  her  eldest  brother  half  a 
year  later.  "It's  quite  hot:  one  wants  summer  frocks. 
There  are  no  end  of  Germans  and  Russes  to  play  with ; 
but  I  don't  like  them.  Mammy's  got  a  new  man  made 
of  millions,  or  rather  she  has  not  got  him  and  it  makes 
her  cross.  He  gave  me  a  gold  Cupid  seal — so  pretty. 
She  took  it  away  from  me,  and  sent  it  as  a  wedding-pres- 
ent to  Daisy  Ffiennes.  Wasn't  that  like  mammy?  She 
never  speaks  of  you.  She  says  uncle  Ronnie  has  made 
you  a  bad  boy." 

The  letter  was  dated  from  Cannes. 

Jack  had  good  sense  enough  to  put  the  note  in  the 
roaring  fire  of  old  salt-encrusted  ship  logs  which  was 
burning  on  the  great  hearth  of  Faldon's  central  hall,  be- 
fore which  he  and  many  dogs  were  lying  in  the  gloom  of 
the  December  afternoon.  He  did  not  envy  his  sister  the 
roses  and  mimosa  and  white  lilac  of  Cannes.  His  mother 
had  gone  there  because  everybody  in  the  winter  does  go 
there,  or  to  Egypt,  or  to  India ;  but  she  was  out  of  temper 
with  Fate,  as  her  little  daughter  had  said.  She  did  not 
wish  for  more  adventures.  She  dreaded  other  tyrants. 
She  wanted  to  have  two  things  in  one  :  liberty  and  money. 
Of  marriage  she  was  afraid.  Where  find  another  Cocky  ? 

Still  in  her  moments  of  sober  reflection  she  knew  that 
she  must  marry,  or  risk  drifting  into  an  insecure,  shifty, 
and  discreditable  position.  Liaisons,  however  agreeable 
and  amusing,  are  not  sheet-anchors.  Besides,  she  had 
been  on  the  verge  of  losing  her  reputation — she  knew 
what  the  danger  feels  like  ;  and  to  become  one  of  the 
throng  of  people  who  live  on  their  knees  outside  the 
gates  which  once  opened  wide  to  them  would  have  been 
infinitely  more  odious  to  her  than  an  over  dose  of  chloral. 
She  was  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  but  she  was  very  much 
more  in  her  own  sight  and  that  of  her  family ;  she  was  a 
Courcy  of  Faldon. 


THE  MASSAUENES.  475 

That  memory  had  been  powerless  to  keep  her  feet 
straight  in  the  path  of  honor  ;  but  it  was  strong  enough 
to  make  her  feel  that  she  would  die  sooner  than  go  down 
in  the  dust  amongst  the  discrowned — the  discrowned  who 
live  in  Pyreneean  watering-places,  or  second-rate  Italian 
cities,  or  German  baths  out  of  their  season,  and  are  made 
much  of  at  the  hands  of  consuls'  wives  and  British  chap- 
lains, and  who  sneak  back  to  their  people's  country  house 
in  England,  and  are  received  there  as  a  family  obligation, 
and  never  more  are  seen  in  London  between  Easter  and 
Goodwood.  Such  an  existence  she  would  no  more  have 
led  than  she  would  have  worn  a  three-guinea  ready-made 
gown  bought  at  an  annual  sale.  She  had  always  led  the 
first  flight  in  the  hunting  field  or  out  of  it. 

She  had,  though  a  very  unpoetic  personage,  this  in  com- 
mon with  poets  and  grasshoppers,  that  she  seldom  looked 
beyond  the  immediate  day.  But  now  the  immediate  day 
frowned  on  her,  grey  and  ugly;  and,  grasshopper-like,  she 
began  to  feel  the  shiver  and  the  rime  of  frost. 

Her  income  under  settlement  was  enough,  as  her 
brother  had  more  than  once  told  her,  to  enable  her  to  live 
very  quietly  at  her  dower-house,  or  at  any  quiet  rural 
place  with  her  children.  But  as  she  would  infinitely  have 
preferred  a  fatal  dose  of  chloral  to  such  an  existence  her 
future  vaguely  terrified  her.  It  was  no  longer  possible  to 
rely  upon  Ronald,  and  she  found  bankers  and  lenders 
were  all  fully  alive  to  the  fact  that  the  widowed  Duchess 
of  Otterboure  with  only  her  jointure  was  a  very  different 
person  to  Lady  Kenilworth,  who  had  always  had  the 
money  potentialities  of  her  lord's  future  inheritance  be- 
hind her,  and  had  also  had  the  ingenious  ability  in  mat- 
ters financial  of  Cocky  at  her  back. 

Poor  Cocky  !  Whoever  would  have  thought  that  she 
would  have  so  sincerely  missed  his  support  as  she  now 
did? 

Her  aunt's  legacy  was  well-nigh  finished ;  she  had 
spent  it  recklessly.  When  it  had  come  to  her  it  had 
seemed  inexhaustible,  but  it  actually  dissolved  as  fast  as 
a  water-ice  in  a  ballroom.  She  was  much  tormented  by 
the  sense  of  her  poverty.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  af- 
ford to  run  any  more  risks  in  supplying  the  deficiencies 


476  THE  MASSARENES. 

in  her  exchequer.  She  knew  that  her  brother  was  now 
aware  of  her  tendency  to  replace  resources  by  ingenious 
intrigue ;  and  any  step  which  would  compromise  her 
afresh  she  was  afraid  to  take. 

What  on  earth  could  she  do  ? 

What  a  wretch  William  Massarene  had  been  not  to 
leave  her  some  portion  of  his  immense  wealth !  She 
thought  about  it  until  she  persuaded  herself  that  she  had 
been  deeply  wronged.  After  torturing  her  as  he  had 
done  surely  he  should  have  left  her  at  peace  for  the  rest 
of  her  actual  life !  She  really  thought  so.  If  he  had 
only  left  his  fortune  to  his  wife  she  could  have  mesmer- 
ized that  dull,  simple  soul  into  anything.  But  the  for- 
tune had  all  gone  to  the  woman  she  hated  the  most  in  the 
world,  that  stately,  lily-like,  silent  person  who  had  con- 
sidered that  her  own  songs  were  not  good  enough  to  be 
sung  at  the  Harrenden  House  concerts  ;  and  who  had 
sent  her  all  those  receipts  and  counterfoils  without  even 
her  compliments,  just  as  you  might  send  her  boxes  after  a 
dismissed  maid ! 

She  had  no  inclination  to  write  good  or  bad  music  now ; 
she  was  absorbed  in  the  discords  of  her  life.  Her  trades- 
people in  Paris  and  London  were  no  longer  pliant ;  they 
even  wrote  rudely ;  Beaumont  no  doubt  had  talked. 
Meanwhile  she  wanted  money  every  moment  as  a  plant 
wants  air. 

There  was  a  man  near  her  in  Cannes  who  was  made  of 
money  and  of  whom  she  had  often  thought:  Adrian  Van- 
derlin.  But  how  to  reach  him  she  did  not  know.  He 
was  a  hermit.  He  had  a  beautiful  place  three  miles  from 
Cannes,  and  was  at  that  moment  in  residence  there ;  so 
much  she  learned  from  an  archduke  who  had  been  to  see 
him,  but  the  rest  was  not  easy  even  to  her  audacity. 
Vanderlin,  who  had  divorced  his  wife  and  was  a  financier, 
would  scarcely,  she  reasoned,  be  an  ingenu.  If  she  could 
see  him — well,  she  had  few  doubts  as  to  the  effect  she 
produced  on  those  who  saw  her.  Experience  had  justified 
her  optimism. 

One  day  she  drove  through  the  olive  woods  which  were 
on  his  estate  and  through  which  a  drive  had  been  cut 
which  was  open  to  the  public.  She  saw  the  chateau  at  a 


THE  MASSAEENES.  477 

distance;  it  was  built  in  the  style  of  Francois  Premier, 
and  was  at  once  elegant  and  stately ;  it  had  long  terraces 
which  looked  out  on  to  the  sea.  It  was  precisely  the  sort 
of  place  to  which  she  would  like  to  come  when  east  winds 
were  blowing  down  Piccadilly  and  north  winds  down  the 
Champs  Elysees. 

ullow  could  that  woman  be  so  stupid  as  to  separate 
from  him?"  she  said  to  the  Archduke  in  whose  carriage 
she  was.  That  gentleman  smiled. 

"As  to  give  him  any  cause  to  separate  from  her  ?  Well, 
no  one  knows  the  rights  of  the  drama.  She  was  very 
young  and  extremely  beautiful.  Many  suppose  that  she 
was  sacrificed  to  intrigues  of  her  father's." 

"But  there  must  have  been  evidence  against  her,"  said 
Mouse,  who  had  a  great  dislike  to  this  woman  whom  she 
had  never  seen. 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  suborned  witnesses,"  replied 
the  Archduke.  "Besides,  in  German  courts  divorce  is 
given  on  slight  grounds.  Myself,  I  think  Vanderlin  re- 
grets it,  or  else  I  do  not  know  why  a  man  of  his  years  and 
his  wealth  should  shut  himself  up  away  from  the  world  as 
he  does." 

"But  he  must  be  seen  in  Paris?" 

"By  men  of  business ;  scarcely  any  one  else.  He  never 
goes  into  society." 

"But  you  see  him,  sir?" 

"  On  business,  on  business." 

"  Could  you  not  show  me  the  chateau  ?  " 

"  I  grieve  to  refuse  you,  but  I  should  not  venture.  I 
should  look  like  Mephisto  leading  a  temptress  of  the 
Venusberg  to  disturb  an  anchorite  in  a  Paraclete." 

"  What  a  fool  he  must  be  !  "  said  Mouse  with  sincere 
conviction. 

The  Archduke  laughed. 

"Dear  Duchess,  there  are  people,  even  men,  to  whom, 
when  the  affections  go  wrong,  life  seems  worthless.  Of 
course  you  do  not  understand  that.  Your  mission  is  to 
inspire  despairing  passions,  not  to  feel  them. 

"  You  are  a  charming  creature,"  he  thought  as  he  spoke. 
"But  you  are  as  keen  after  gold  as  a  stoat  after  poultry. 
I  shall  not  put  you  on  the  track  of  Vanderlin's.  He  is  a 


478  THE  MASSARENES. 

great  capitalist ;  but  such  women  as  you  would  eat  up  the 
treasure  of  an  empire  and  still  cry  '  Give  ! ' — daughter  of 
the  horse-leech  as  you  are,  with  your  innocent  eyes  and 
your  childlike  smile." 

Mouse  said  no  more  on  the  subject,  but  she  carefully 
surveyed  the  approaches  of  the  chateau  and  the  shore  which 
stretched  immediately  beneath  its  terraces.  She  had  a 
plan  in  her  fertile  mind. 

She  was  as  at  home  in  the  water  as  a  fish ;  the  family  at 
Faldon  had  always  lived  half  their  days  in  the  sea. 

Early  the  next  morning  she  rowed  herself  out  in  a  small 
rowing-boat  which  belonged  to  one  of  her  friends ;  she  had 
Boo  with  her. 

"  We  will  go  and  have  a  bathe  in  deep  water,"  she  said 
to  the  child.  They  frequently  did  so.  But  she  did  not 
go  out  very  far,  and  she  steered  eastward  where  the  woods 
of  Vanderlin's  chateau  rose  above  the  shore.  In  front  of 
the  house,  and  in  sight  of  it,  she  took  advantage  of  a  mo- 
ment in  which  Boo  was  busy  clapping  her  hands  at  some 
gulls  to  pull  up  the  plug  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  It 
began  to  leak  and  then  to  fill.  She  gave  a  cry  as  the 
water  welled  up  over  her  ankles,  and  drawing  the  child  to 
her  rapidly  pulled  off  Boo's  clothes,  leaving  her  in  her 
chemise  and  drawers. 

"  Jump  on  my  back  and  put  your  arms  round  my  throat. 
Don't  hold  too  hard  to  choke  me.  Don't  be  frightened — 
I  will  take  you  to  shore." 

With  the  little  girl  on  her  shoulders  she  cleared  herself 
of  the  boat  as  it  filled  to  its  edges,  and  let  herself  go  into 
the  sea,  which  was  quite  calm  arid  not  very  cold  in  the 
noontide.  Boo,  who  had  her  mother's  high  spirit,  and  was 
used  to  dance  about  in  sea  surf,  was  not  nervous  and  did 
not  cling  too  closely.  Mouse  struck  out  toward  the  beach 
somewhat  embarrassed  by  her  clothing,  but  swimming 
with  the  skill  which  she  had  acquired  in  childish  days  in 
the  rougher  waters  of  the  Irish  Channel. 

She  knew  that  if  anyone  was  looking  through  a  binocu- 
lar on  the  terraces  above  she  must  make  a  very  effective 
picture — like  Venus  Aphrodite  bearing  Eros.  Boo,  who 
was  amused,  rode  triumphant,  keeping  her  golden  hair 
and  her  black  Gainsborough  hat  out  of  the  water.  Some 


THE  MASSARENES.  479 

men  who  were  on  the  beach  holloaed  and  ran  to  get  a  boat 
out  of  a  boathouse  lower  on  the  shore,  but  before  they 
could  launch  it  Mouse  and  her  little  daughter  had  come 
ashore  laughing  arid  dripping  like  two  playfellows.  Their 
little  skiff,  turned  keel  upward,  was  floating  away  to  the 
eastward  as  the  wind  drove  it. 

"  There  will  be  several  napoleons  to  pay  for  that,"  she> 
thought,  as  she  saw  the  derelict  going  fast  out  of  sight, 
"  Never  mind  if  one  gets  into  the  enchanted  castle." 

At  that  moment  of  her  landing,  whilst  she  stood  shaking 
the  salt  water  off  her  on  to  the  sand,  a  voice  addressed  her 
from  the  marble  sea-wall  above  : 

"  Have  you  had  an  accident,  madam  ?  You  have  dis- 
played great  courage.  Pray  come  up  those  steps;  my 
house  is  at  your  disposal." 

"  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves,"  thought 
Mouse,  as  she  looked  up  and  saw  a  man  above  who,  she 
felt  certain,  must  be  Adrian  Vanderlin.  "  I  shall  be  glad 
to  dry  my  little  daughter's  clothes,"  she  said,  as  she  began 
to  ascend  the  stone  steps.  "  The  plug  of  the  boat  was  rot- 
ten ;  it  filled  before  one  could  call  out  even.  If  you  have 
any  outhouse  you  can  put  us  in — we  are  as  wet  as  two 
Newfoundlands." 

Boo,  feeling  that  it  would  be  more  interesting  to  do  so, 
had  begun  to  tremble  a  little  and  cry,  looking  a  very  pretty 
watery  baby-syren. 

"  Don't  cry,  Boo,"  said  her  mother.  "  You  know  you're 
not  frightened  a  bit,  only  cold." 

"I  have  sent  to  my  women  servants  to  bring  you 
cloaks,"  said  the  owner  of  the  chateau  as  he  came  down 
the  steps  to  meet  her,  unconscious  of  the  comedy  which 
had  been  acted  for  him.  "  It  was  very  venturesome,"  he 
added,  "to  come  in  a  rowing-boat  with  no  one  to  aid 
you." 

"  It  was  very  stupid  of  me  not  to  examine  the  condition 
of  the  boat,"  she  replied.  "As  for  danger  there  was  none. 
I  kept  close  to  land,  and  my  child  and  I  swim  like  fish." 

"  So  I  have  seen ;  but  the  Mediterranean,  if  only  a  salt- 
water lake  as  some  say,  can  be  a  very  turbulent  one." 

At  that  moment  his  servants  came,  bringing  wraps  in 
which  they  hastened  to  enfold  the  lady  and  her  little  girl, 


480  THE  MASSAKEKES. 

who  were  beginning  to  feel  really  chilly.  They  went  up 
to  the  house,  over  whose  fagade  the  appreciative  eyes  of 
Mouse  ranged  enviously. 

"Pray  consider  everything  here  at  your  disposal,"  he 
said  courteously.  "  My  housekeeper  will  take  you  up- 
stairs, and  if  you  will  allow  me  to  advise  you,  you  will  go 
to  bed.  Meantime,  can  I  send  to  inform  your  people?" 

She  thanked  him  gracefully,  not  too  warmly,  and  gave 
him  her  address  in  Cannes. 

"  If  you  could  get  my  maid  over  with  some  clothes  I 
should  be  glad,"  she  said,  as  she  went  up  the  staircase 
looking,  as  no  other  woman  would  have  looked,  lovely 
despite  the  thick  wraps  and  the  soaked  hair. 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  your  name  ?  " 

" Duchess  of  Otterbourne,"  she  called  back  to  him, 
whilst  she  went  up  the  stairs  followed  by  Boo,  who  by  this 
time  had  grown  cold  and  equally  cross. 

She  was  taken  into  a  beautiful  bedchamber  of  the  Louis 
Quinze  style,  with  silver  dogs  on  the  hearth  where  a  wood 
fire  already  blazed. 

"  It  was  really  very  well  done,"  she  thought  with  self- 
complacency.  "I  only  hope  to  goodness  Boo  will  not 
take  cold.  That  man  must  be  Vanderlin  himself.  He  is 
more  good-looking  than  I  expected ;  and  for  an  anchorite 
he  is  civil." 

"They're  silver,"  said  Boo,  surveying  the  andirons, 
whilst  two  maids  were  rubbing  dry  her  rosy  limbs.  "So's 
the  mirror,"  she  added  as  she  looked  around  her  after 
drinking  a  cup  of  hot  milk ;  after  which  she  allowed  her- 
self to  be  put  to  bed  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

Her  mother  sat  by  the  fire  wrapped  in  blankets  and 
eiderdown. 

Even  to  Boo's  busy  and  suspicious  intelligence  it  did 
not  occur  that  the  plug  had  been  pulled  out  on  purpose. 
The  little  secret  was  quite  safe  in  her  mother's  own 
brain. 

"  This  is  a  very  nice  house,"  said  Boo  with  condescen- 
sion to  the  owner  of  it  when,  three  hours  later,  the  maid 
and  the  clothes  having  arrived  from  Cannes,  they  went 
downstairs  with  no  trace  in  either  of  their  late  immersion 
in  salt  water,  and  saw  their  host  in  his  library. 


THE  MASSARENES.  481 

"I  am  honored  by  your  approval,"  said  Vanderlin. 

"  Boo  is  a  great  connoisseur,"  said  her  mother. 

Vanderlin  was  a  tall  and  slender  man,  with  a  handsome 
face,  spoiled  by  melancholy  and  fatigue ;  his  eyes  were 
dreamy  and  gentle,  his  manner  was  grave  and  gave  the 
impression  that  his  thoughts  were  not  greatly  in  what  he 
was  saying ;  he  at  all  times  spoke  little. 

He  smiled  at  the  child  indulgently.  "  I  hope  she  has 
felt  no  ill  effects,"  he  said  to  her  mother.  "Nor  your- 
self?" 

"  They  took  too  good  care  of  us,"  replied  Mouse.  "  It 
is  so  very  kind  of  you  to  have  been  so  hospitable  to  two 
drowned  rats." 

"  I  am  happy  to  have  been  of  use."  He  said  it  with  per- 
fect politeness,  but  the  tone  suggested  to  her  that  he  would 
be  grateful  if  she  went  away  and  left  him  to  his  solitude. 

The  indifference  stimulated  her  vanity. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  who  you  are,"  she  said  with 
that  abruptness  which  in  her  was  graceful.  "  But  I  think 
I  know.  You  are  Baron  Vanderlin." 

He  assented. 

"Why  do  you  not  see  people?"  she  asked  brusquely. 
"  Why  do  you  shut  yourself  up  all  alone  in  this  beautiful 
place?" 

"  I  come  here  for  rest." 

"But  even  in  Paris  or  London  or  Berlin  you  shun  so- 
ciety ?  " 

"  I  do  not  care  for  it." 

"  What  a  pity  !  " 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do.  No  one  should  live  alone  who  is  not 
old  and  blind  and  poor." 

He  smiled  slightly. 

"If  one  were  old  and  blind  and  poor,  one  would  be 
probably  left  alone,  malgre  soi." 

"Ah,  you  are  a  pessimist!  I  am  not.  I  think  the 
world  very  delightful  and  people  very  good." 

"  Your  experiences  have  been  fortunate — and  brief." 

He  looked  vaguely  round  the  room  as  if  he  looked  for 
somebody  to  take  her  away. 

Boo,  who  had  been  examining  the  library,  came  up  to 

3X 


482  THE  MA8SABENE8. 

him  with  a  little  agate  Cupid,  a  paper  weight ;  the  Cupid 
had  gold  wings  and  quiver,  and  was  a  delicate  work  of  art. 
"  It's  pretty,"  she  said  ;  "  will  you  let  me  have  it  ?  " 

"  Pray  keep  it,"  said  Vanderlin.  Her  mother  scolded 
her  and  protested,  she  was  indeed  considerably  annoyed 
at  the  child's  effrontery ;  but  Boo  kept  tight  hold  on  the 
Cupid. 

"  Gentleman  don't  want  it,"  she  said.  "  He's  too  old 
for  toys." 

He  laughed.     He  had  not  laughed  for  a  long  time. 

"  Have  you  any  children  ?  "  asked  Boo. 

"  No,  my  dear." 

"  Why  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  They  are  treasures  not  accorded  to  all." 

"  Treasure  is  great  anxiety,  whether  it  is  your  kind  of 
treasure  or  mine,  M.  Vanderlin,"  said  Boo's  mother. 
44  You  have  been  very  kind  to  this  naughty  little  girl ;  and 
we  have  trespassed  too  long  on  your  hospitality.  Yet,  if 
it  wouldn't  bore  you  too  much,  I  should  so  like  to  see 
something  of  the  house  before  I  go.  I  have  often  wished 
to  enter  as  I  sallied  past  it  or  drove  through  your  olive 
woods." 

He  assented  to  her  wish  with  a  reluctance  which  she 
ignored ;  and  he  showed  her  over  the  chief  part  of  his 
chateau,  which  contained  much  which  was  beautiful  and 
rare.  Boo,  wishing  for  everything  she  saw  but  warned  by 
her  mother's  eyes  not  to  ask  for  anything  more,  went 
jumping  and  running  through  the  rooms,  her  hat  in  her 
hand  and  the  light  on  her  golden  head. 

44  You  have  several  children,  I  think,"  said  Vanderlin 
to  her  mother. 

"Four,"  replied  Mouse;  and  she  felt  that  she  would 
have  preferred  for  this  hermit  to  know  nothing  about  her 
by  reputation. 

44  Are  they  all  with  you  ?  " 

44 No;  they  are  little  boys;  their  guardians  have  more 
to  do  with  them  than  I." 

There  was  a  sadness  in  her  tone  which  made  him  look 
at  her  with  a  certain  interest. 

44  Law  is  very  hard  on  women,"  she  added.  44  Especially 
as  regards  their  offspring." 


THE  MASSARENES.  483 

She  was,  to  men  of  serious  temper,  most  interesting  in 
her  maternal  feeling,  and  it  was  genuine  in  a  sense  though 
used  with  artifice.  Vanderlin  looked  at  her  with  less  in- 
difference and  unwillingness,  but  she  made  little  way  in 
his  intimacy ;  he  remained  distant  in  his  courtesy,  and  as 
she  drove  away  with  baskets  of  roses  for  herself  and  of 
fruit  for  her  little  daughter  she  felt  discontentedly  that 
she  had  gone  through  the  trouble  of  her  invention,  and 
spent  the  money  which  the  lost  boat  would  cost,  for  small 
purpose. 

Boo  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  turrets  of  the 
chateau  already  distant  above  its  woods. 

"That's  a  nice  man,"  she  said  decidedly.  "Won't 
you  marry  him,  mammy  ?  " 

Her  mother  colored  at  such  unexpected  divination  of 
her  own  projects. 

"  What  odious  things  you  say,  Boo,"  she  answered ; 
"  and  how  odiously  you  behaved,  asking  for  things  in  that 
bare-faced  way.  I  have  told  you  fifty  times  never  to 
ask." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  got  it  else,"  replied  Boo,  calmly  and 
unmoved,  taking  the  Cupid  out  of  the  pocket  of  her  fur 
paletot,  and  contemplating  it  with  satisfaction.  She  had 
improved  in  the  science  of  looting  since  the  day  when  her 
mother  had  made  her  give  back  the  gold  box  to  Mrs. 
Massarene. 

As  the  carriage  drove  along  the  sea-road  Vanderlin  re- 
turned to  the  solitude  of  his  library. 

It  had  been  unwelcome  to  him  to  be  obliged  to  enter- 
tain them,  and  yet  now  that  they  were  gone  he  momen- 
tarily missed  them,  the  gay  bright  presence  of  the  child 
and  the  graceful  nonchalance  in  speech  and  movement  of 
the  woman.  It  was  years  since  either  child  or  woman  bad 
been  in  the  rooms  of  Les  Mouettes. 

The  days  passed  and  brought  her  no  recompense  what- 
ever for  her  self-inflicted  immersion  in  the  cold  January 
waves.  The  boat  had  been  found  and  restored  to  its 
owner,  so  it  did  not  cost  her  very  much.  But  the  sense 
of  failure  irritated  her  exceedingly.  Boo  importuned  her 
several  times  to  return  to  the  chateau  of  the  silver  dogs, 
but  only  encountered  a  sharp  reprimand  and  was  scolded 


484  THE  HASSAEENES. 

for  effrontery.  The  Cupid  had  been  taken  away  from  her 
and  found  its  home  in  her  mother's  dispatch  box  till  it  was 
sent  as  a  wedding-gift  to  somebody  who  was  being  mar- 
ried in  the  fog  in  Belgravia.  Boo  resented  the  injustice 
bitterly  and  meditated  compensation  or  revenge.  More 
than  once  she  was  on  the  point  of  starting  by  herself  for 
Les  Mouettes,  but  it  was  far  off,  her  feet  would  not  take 
her  there,  and  she  could  not  get  away  in  a  boat  because 
her  governess  or  her  maid  was  always  after  her.  tfc  If  I 
could  only  get  there  alone  he'd  give  me  a  lot  of  things," 
she  thought ;  she  could  see  the  promontoiy  on  which  it 
stood  some  five  miles  off  to  westward.  But  she  had  to 
stay  in  Cannes,  and  be  walked  out  by  her  women,  and 
play  stupid  games  with  little  Muscovite  princesses,  pale 
and  peevish,  and  little  German  countesses,  rustic  and 
rosy.  Mammy  took  little  notice  of  her.  "  She's  always 
nasty  when  she's  got  no  money,"  reflected  Boo. 

Boo  knew  that  there  was  a  scarcity  of  money. 

One  day,  as  she  was  walking  with  her  governess,  which 
she  hated,  she  saw  two  gentlemen  on  the  other  side  of  a 
myrtle  hedge.  She  kissed  her  hand  to  one  of  them  and 
rushed  headlong  to  where  a  break  in  the  hedge  enabled 
her  to  join  them. 

"  Good  morning !  "  she  cried,  rapturously  throwing  her 
arms  about  Vanderlin.  He  look  down  at  her,  surprised 
at  such  a  welcome. 

"  Is  it  you,  my  little  friend  ?     How  is  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Why  haven't  you  been  to  see  us  ?  "  asked  Boo. 

He  smiled. 

"  I  am  remiss  in  those  matters.     I  need  education." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  said  Boo.  "  I  know  what 
people  ought  to  do.  Come  and  see  mammy  now." 

"  Not  now,  my  dear.     I  have  other  engagements." 

Boo's  brows  knit  together. 

"  People  break  engagements  when  I  tell  them,"  she 
said  with  hauteur. 

"  Mine  are  business  engagements." 

"  Come  ! "  she  said  with  a  stamp  of  one  small  foot. 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  will  call  on  you  at  three  if  you  wish 
it  so  much." 

"  That  is  a  rude  way  to  speak." 


THE  MASSARENES.  485 

"  I  am  not  a  courtier,  my  dear.  Run  away  now.  I  am 
occupied.  I  will  call  on  you  at  three." 

Boo  was  forced  to  be  content  with  this  compromise ; 
she  looked  after  him  as  he  walked  on  with  his  companion, 
a  prime  minister. 

"  He's  made  of  millions,"  she  said  to  her  governess,  and 
her  little  face  had  a  reverential  look  upon  it. 

Her  mother  was  at  home  at  three  o'clock  in  the  pretty 
room  with  its  windows  opening  on  to  a  flower-filled  bal- 
cony which  cost  so  much  in  the  first  hotel  in  Cannes,  She 
was  reading,  and  Boo,  at  a  table,  was  dabbling  with  some 
water-color  paints,  when  he  who  was  "  made  of  millions  " 
entered,  being  faithful  to  his  word. 

"  Your  little  daughter  reminded  me  that  I  have  been  to 
blame  in  not  earlier  doing  myself  this  honor,"  he  said  as 
he  bent  over  her  hand :  she  thought  that  he  did  not  look 
either  honored  or  enthusiastic. 

She  had  a  vague  sense  of  hostility  to  her  in  him  which 
stimulated  her  interest  and  her  intentions. 

"  You  owed  no  duty  to  two  shipwrecked  waifs  whom 
you  entertained  only  too  amiabty,"  she  said  with  a  charm- 
ing smile.  "  I  am  surprised  that  you  have  given  us  a 
thought." 

He  had  scarcely  given  her  a  thought,  but  he  could  not 
tell  her  so. 

He  remained  with  her  half  an  hour,  talking  in  a  some- 
what absent  manner  of  French  literature  and  of  German 
music. 

"What'll  you  give  me,  mammy?"  said  Boo  when  he 
had  taken  his  leave,  as  she  dropped  down  at  her  mother's 
feet. 

"Give  you?  What  do  you  mean?"  said  Mouse,  who 
was  irritated  that  he  had  not  invited  her  to  his  chateau. 

"What'll  you  give  me,  mammy?"  repeated  Boo ;  and 
her  upraised  saucy  imperious  eyes  said  plainly,  "  Reward 
me  for  bringing  the  person  you  wanted  or  I  shall  tell  him 
you've  sent  his  Cupid — my  Cupid — as  a  wedding-present 
to  Daisy  Ffiennes." 

"  I  will  give  you  a  kiss  first,"  said  Mouse  with  apparent 
ignorance  of  the  meaning  of  the  upraised  eyes,  "  and  then 
I  will  give  you  a  drive.  Run  away.' 


486  THE  MASSARENES. 

To  Boo  the  recompense  seemed  small  besides  the  great- 
ness of  the  service  rendered.  But  her  short  years  of  life 
had  been  long  enough  to  convince  her  that  people  were 
not  grateful. 

"  Man's  made  of  millions,"  she  said  dreamily  when  she 
was  seated  by  her  mother's  side  in  the  victoria  and  Van- 
derlin.  driving  a  pair  of  horses  on  his  homeward  way, 
passed  them. 

"  I  believe  he  is,"  said  her  mother.  "  But  his  millions 
are  nothing  to  us." 

Boo  turned  her  head  away  that  she  might  grin  unre- 
pressed,  showing  all  her  pretty  teeth  to  an  eucalyptus  tree 
on  the  road. 

Her  mother  did  not  like  Vanderlin.  His  grave  ab- 
stracted manner,  his  visible  indifference  to  herself,  his 
somewhat  ceremonious  words  bored  her,  chilled  her ;  she 
felt  in  his  presence  verty  much  as  she  did  when  in  church. 

But  she  intended  him  to  marry  her.  She  fancied  he 
was  weak  and  unintelligent ;  she  thought  she  would  do  as 
she  liked  with  him  and  the  millions  which  were  undoubt- 
edly his.  On  his  part  he  would  benefit,  for  he  wanted 
rousing  and  being  reconciled  to  the  world.  What  was  the 
use  of  the  millions  if  there  were  nobody  to  spend  them  ? 
She  knew  that  no  one  could  distance  her  in  the  art  of 
making  money  fly  about  and  diffuse  itself. 

She  would  much  sooner  have  married  Wuffie. 

WufBe  was  His  Serene  Highness  Prince  Woffram  of 
Karstein  Lowenthal ;  he  was  twenty-four  years  old,  very 
good-looking,  very  mirthful  and  pleasure-loving,  very 
popular  and  sociable ;  he  was  extremely  in  love  with  her, 
and  would  have  given  her  all  he  possessed  with  rapture. 
But,  alas !  that  all  was  represented  by  a  rank  which  was 
negotiable  in  the  marriage  market,  and  bills  which  were 
not  negotiable  anywhere.  He  was  a  fourth  son,  and  his 
parents  were  so  poor  that  Daddy  Gwyllian  declared  he 
knew  for  a  fact  that,  when  they  were  dining  alone,  they 
had  the  Volkzeitung  outspread  for  a  tablecloth  to  save  their 
palatial  damask.  Wuffie  was  charming,  but  matrimoni- 
ally he  was  impossible. 

Wuffie  was  then  at  Cannes,  floating  himself  in  the  best 
society,  as  penniless  princes  of  his  Fatherland  alone  can 


THE  MASSAEENES.  487 

do.  She  liked  him ;  she  had  even  more  than  liking  for 
him,  but  she  kept  him  at  a  respectful  distance,  for  he  did 
not  accord  with  the  grave  intentions  with  which  she  had 
swum  toward  the  terraces  of  Les  Mouettes.  In  racing 
parlance,  she  did  not  dare  put  her  money  on  him  for  any 
big  event. 

"  Why  am  I  out  in  the  cold,  darling?  "  he  asked  sorrow- 
fully of  Boo,  who  was  always  consulted  by  her  mother's 
admirers  as  an  unfailing  aneroid. 

Boo  shook  her  head  and  pursed  up  her  lips. 

"  Why  ?  "  insisted  the  poor  prince.  "  You  know  every- 
thing, Boo." 

This  appeal  to  her  omniscience  prevailed. 

"You're  very  pretty,  Wuffie,"  she  said,  caressing  his 
golden  hair,  which  was  as  bright  as  her  own.  "  You're 
very  pretty,  and  you're  great  fun.  But  you  know,  poor, 
poor  Wuffie,  you  haven't  got  a  pfennig  to  spend." 

"Come  and  see,  Boo,"  said  Wuffie,  stung  by  such  a 
statement  into  mad  expenditure,  which  resulted  in  the 
purchase  for  Boo  of  a  toy  opera  house,  with  orchestra, 
costumes,  and  personages  complete,  which  had,  for  three 
days,  been  the  object  of  her  ardent  desires  in  a  shop 
window  in  Nice. 

"I'll  sing  all  the  parts  myself,"  she  said  raptuously. 

"You  must  give  the  tenor's  to  me,"  said  the  purchaser 
of  it,  with  a  double  meaning. 

"  Tenors  is  always  spitted,"  said  Boo  solemnly.  "  They're 
always  spitted — or  poisoned." 

Her  mother  passed  some  days  in  perplexed  meditation. 
She  felt  that  all  the  charms  of  her  ever-irresistible  sorcery 
would  be  thrown  away  on  the  owner  of  that  delicious  sea- 
palace,  and  that,  as  matters  now  stood,  there  was  not  a 
shadow  of  reason  for  the  threat  of  Prince  Khristof  to  be 
put  into  execution.  But  she  was  tenacious,  and  did  not 
like  to  acknowledge  herself  beaten.  She  could  not  readily 
believe  that  Vanderlin  was  so  different  to  other  men  that 
ho  could  in  the  end  remain  wholly  uninfluenced  by  her. 
The  great  difficulty  was  to  approach  him,  for  she  felt  that 
she  had  already  committed  herself  to  more  than  was  wise 
or  was  delicate  in  her  advances  to  him  in  his  solitude. 
She  cast  about  her  for  some  deus  ex  machina  that  sh© 


488  THE  MASSARENES. 

could  set  in  motion,  and  decided  on  the  old  Austrian 
Archduke. 

The  Archduke  was  an  old  man  in  years,  but  not  in  tem- 
perament, and  he  was  highly  sensible  of  her  attractions; 
she  did  very  much  as  she  pleased  with  him,  and  he,  stern- 
est of  martinets  and  harshest  of  commanding  officers,  was 
like  a  ball  of  feathers  in  her  hands.  With  great  adroit- ' 
ness,  and  the  magnetism  which  every  charming  woman  ex- 
ercises, she  so  interested  him  by  her  descriptions  of  Les 
Mouettes,  that  he  was  inspired  by  a  desire  of  seeing  the 
place  for  himself,  and  was  induced  to  overcome  both  his 
well-bred  dislike  to  intruding  on  a  recluse,  and  his  im- 
perial reluctance  to  cross  the  threshold  of  a  man  not  noble. 
In  the  end,  so  well  did  she  know  how  to  turn  men  and 
things  to  her  own  purposes,  that,  despite  the  mutual  re- 
luctance of  both  the  guest  and  the  host,  Vanderlin  did, 
taken  at  a  disadvantage  one  day,  when  he  met  them  all 
three  together,  invite  the  old  general  to  breakfast,  and  in- 
vited also  herself  and  her  little  girl,  and  the  invitations 
were  promptly  accepted.  It  was  impossible  to  be  more 
perfectly  courteous  than  Vanderlin  was  on  the  occasion, 
or  to  show  more  urbanity  and  tact  than  he  did  in  his  re- 
ception of  them ;  but  even  she,  who  could  easily  persuade 
herself  of  most  things  which  she  wished  to  believe,  could 
not  fail  to  see  that  the  entertainment  was  a  weariness  to 
him — a  concession,  and  an  unwilling  one,  to  the  wishes  of 
an  aged  prince  with  whom  his  banking-house  had,  for 
many  years,  had  relations. 

No  one  was  ever,  she  thought,  so  gracefully  courteous 
and  so  impenetrably  indifferent  as  her  host  was.  The 
child  alone  seemed  to  interest  him;  and  Boo,  who  had 
taken  her  cue  unbidden  from  her  mother,  was  charming, 
subdued,  almost  shy,  and  wholly  bewitching.  She  had  a 
genuine  respect  for  the  man  made  of  millions. 

The  Archduke,  after  the  luncheon,  tired  by  his  per- 
ambulations over  the  large  house,  and  having  eaten  and 
drunk  largely,  fell  asleep  on  a  sofa  with  some  miniatures, 
which  he  was  looking  at,  lying  on  his  knees  ;  he  was  sunk 
in  the  heavy  slumber  of  age  and  defective  digestion.  Not 
to  disturb  him,  Vanderlin  and  she  conversed  in  low  tones 
at  some  distance  from  him,  whilst  the  gentleman  of  his 


MASSARENES.  489 

household,  who  had  accompanied  him,  discreetly  played  a 
noiseless  game  of  ball  with  Boo  on  the  terrace  outside  the 
windows. 

She,  who  was  greatly  daring,  thought  that  now  or  never 
was  the  moment  to  find  out  what  her  host's  feelings  were 
toward  the  woman  whom  he  had  divorced.  It  was  diffi- 
cult, and  she  knew  that  it  was  shockingly  ill-bred  to  in- 
vade the  privacy  of  such  a  subject,  but  she  felt  that  it  was 
the  only  way  to  get  even  with  Khris  Kar. 

They  were  in  a  room  consecrated  to  the  portraits  of 
women — a  collection  made  by  Vandeiiin's  father — chiefly 
portraits  of  the  eighteenth  century,  some  oils,  some  pas- 
tels, some  crayons,  and  most  of  them  French  work,  ex- 
cept a  Romney  or  two  and  several  Conway  miniatures. 
She  had  looked,  admired,  criticised  them  with  that  super- 
ficial knowledge  of  the  technique  and  jargon  of  art  which 
is  so  easily  acquired  in  the  world  by  people  to  whom  art, 
qua  art,  is  absolutely  indifferent.  She  said  the  right  thing 
in  the  right  place,  displaying  culture  arid  accurate  criti- 
cism, and  looking,  as  she  always  did,  like  a  brilliant  Rom- 
ney herself,  very  simply  attired  with  a  white  gown,  a  blue 
ribbon  round  her  waist,  and  a  straw  hat,  covered  with 
forget-me-nots,  on  her  hair. 

The  room  was  in  shade  and  silence,  full  of  sweetness 
from  great  china  bowls  of  lilies  of  the  valley ;  the  old 
man  slept  on  with  his  chin  on  his  chest ;  the  sound  of  the 
sea  and  the  smothered  ripple  of  childish  laughter  came 
from  without.  Now  or  never,  she  thought,  and  turned  to 
Vanderlin. 

"  What  an  exquisite  place  this  is  !  What  a  pity  you 
are  all  alone  in  it." 

"  Solitude  has  its  compensations,  if  not  its  distractions," 
he  answered  ;  he  was  profoundly  distrustful  of  her  simple, 
natural,  friendly  manner,  which  seemed  to  him  more  dan- 
gerous than  any  other ;  he  believed  it  to  be  assumed  on 
purpose  to  put  him  off  his  guard.  He  thought  the  Circe 
who  now  endeavored  to  beguile  him  one  of  the  loveliest 
women  he  had  ever  seen,  and  he  felt  convinced  that  she 
was  also  one  of  the  most  dangerous.  But  she  aroused 
neither  interest  nor  curiosity  in  him,  though  his  mind 
acknowledged  her  potent  charms. 


490  THE  MASSABENES. 

"  Do  you  never  regret  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  Who  can  outlive  youth  without  regret?  "  he  replied. 
He  was  hostile  to  her  in  his  mind.  He  felt  her  charm, 
but  he  resented  her  approaches.  He  could  not  but  per- 
ceive her  desire  to  draw  him  into  confidential  conversa- 
tion, and  the  reserve  which  was  natural  to  him  increased 
in  proportion  to  her  persistent  endeavor  to  overcome  it. 

In  herself,  she  was  irritated  and  discouraged;  but  she 
concealed  both  feelings,  and  summoned  all  her  courage. 

"Is  there  a  portrait  of  your  wife  here?"  she  asked 
abruptly,  taming  and  facing  him. 

He  grew  pale  to  his  lips,  and  an  expression  of  intense 
pain  passed  over  his  countenance. 

"  Madame/'  he  said  very  coldly,  "  that  lady's  name 
must  not  be  mentioned  to  me." 

"  Oh,  you  know,  I  am  a  very  impertinent  person  !  "  she 
answered  lightly.  "  Perhaps  you  will  say  I  am  a  very 
ill-bred  one.  But  her  story  has  always  had  a  fascination 
for  me.  They  say  she  is  such  a  very  beautiful  person." 

He  said  nothing  ;  he  retained  his  composure  with  diffi- 
culty ;  this  audacious  stranger  probed  a  wound  which  he 
would  not  have  allowed  his  most  intimate  friend  to  touch. 

"  I  know  her  father  very  well,"  she  continued,  disre- 
garding the  visible  offence  and  suffering  with  which  he 
heard  her;  "  he  has  sometimes  spoken  of  her  to  me.  He 
is  not  very  scrupulous.  Don't  you  think  there  may  have 
been  some  misunderstanding,  some  misrepresentation, 
some  intentional  mischief?" 

Vanderlin,  with  increasing  difficulty,  controlled  his 
anger  and  his  emotion. 

i  "  I  do  not  discuss  these  matters,"  he  said  with  great 
dullness.  "  Allow  me,  madame,  to  remind  you  that  the 
privilege  of  your  acquaintance  is  to  me  a  very  recent 
honor." 

"  And  you  think  me  very  intrusive  and  insupportable  ? 
Oh  !  I  quite  understand  that.  But  I  have  heard  things— 
and  it  seems  a  pity — you  are  not  old  enough  to  mope  all 
by  yourself  like  this  ;  and  if  there  was  any  mistake  ?  " 

"  There  was  none." 

He  said  it  between  his  teeth ;  the  recollections  she 
evoked  were  fraught  for  him  with  intolerable  torture,  and 


THE  MASSAUENES.  491 

he  could  have  taken  this  intruder  by  her  shoulders  and 
thrust  her  out  of  his  presence  if  he  had  not  been  restrained 
by  the  habits  and  self-command  of  a  man  of  the  world. 

"But  she  ruins  your  life.  You  do  not  forget  her  ?" 
said  his  unwelcome  visitant. 

"  I  shall  not  replace  her,  nmdame,"  replied  Vanderlin 
curtly,  weary  of  the  cross-examination,  and  wondering, 
half  divining,  what  the  scope  of  it  might  be. 

"  Ah,  there  you  are  so  right ! "  Mouse  murmured. 
"  How  can  the  ruling  of  a  judge  undo  what  is  done,  efface 
what  is  written  on  the  heart,  or  make  the  past  a  tabula 
rasa  ?  You  think  me  an  impertinent,  tiresome  person,  I 
am  sure,  but  I  must  say  to  you  how  glad,  how  very  glad 
I  should  be,  if  I  could  ever  prove  to  you  that  you  wronged 
the  Countess  zu  Lynar." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  of  such  things  ?  "  said  Vanderlin, 
his  self-control  momentarily  deserting  him.  "  Does  one 
put  out  the  light  of  one's  life,  of  one's  soul,  on  mere  sus- 
picion ?  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  You 
torture  me.  You  will  make  me  forget  myself.  Be  silent, 
I  tell  you  ;  be  silent !  " 

She  looked  at  him,  very  sweetly,  without  offence. 

"I  understand.  You  love  this  woman  still.  She  was 
the  mother  of  your  dead  child.  I  understand — oh !  so 
completely  !  Well,  if  ever  I  can  prove  to  you  that  I  am 
right  and  you  are  wrong,  I  shall  be  very  glad,  for  I  am 
quite  sure  that  you  will  never  care  for  any  other  person. 
It  may  seem  to  you  very  impertinent,  but  I  have  an  idea 

— an  idea Never  mind,  if  there  be  any  grounds  for 

it,  time  will  show." 

"  You  speak  very  strangely,  madame,"  said  Vanderlin, 
agitated  to  a  degree  which  it  was  hard  for  him  to  conceal, 
yet  extremely  suspicious  of  her  motives. 

"I  dare  say  I  do,"  she  answered  without  offence,  "for  I 
know  nothing  whatever,  and  I  conjecture  a  great  deal ; 
very  feminine  that,  you  will  say.  Hush  !  the  Archduke 
is  stirring." 

At  that  moment  the  Archduke  awoke  from  his  slumber, 
astonished  to  find  himself  where  he  was,  and  looking 
round  for  his  missing  gentleman.  Vanderlin  hastened,  of 
course,  to  his  side,  and  the  tUe-a-tete  was  over,  but  it  had 


492  THE  MASSARENES. 

lasted  long  enough  for  her  to  be  certain  that  it  would  be 
as  easy  to  raise  the  sunken  galleys  of  Carthage  from  the 
violet  seas  beyond  the  windows  as  to  revive  passion  in  the 
heart  of  her  host. 

She  hastened  to  leave  him  and  go  out  on  to  the  terrace 
to  tell  Boo  to  be  quiet,  for  she  had,  as  she  had  truly  said, 
no  knowledge  whatever,  and  merely  some  vague  impres- 
sions suggested  by  the  visit  and  the  warning  of  Prince 
Khris.  But  she  had  gleaned  two  certainties  from  her  con- 
versation with  Vandeiiin — one,  that  he  had  never  ceased 
to  regret  his  divorced  wife,  the  other  that  it  would  be  as 
much  use  to  woo  a  marble  statue  as  to  attempt  to  fasci- 
nate this  man,  whose  heart  was  buried  in  the  deep  sea 
grave  of  a  shipwrecked  passion.  She  had  read  of  such 
passions,  and  seen  them  represented  on  the  stage,  but  she 
had  never  before  believed  in  their  existence.  Now  that 
she  did  believe  in  them,  such  a  waste  of  opportunities 
seemed  to  her  supremely  idiotic.  The  idea  of  a  financier, 
a  man  of  the  world,  a  Croesus  of  Paris  and  Berlin,  sitting 
down  to  weep  for  the  broken  jug  of  spilt  milk,  for  the 
shattered  basket  of  eggs,  like  the  farm  girl  in  the  fable ! 
What  could  be  sillier  or  less  remunerative  ?  But  she  re- 
membered she  had  often  heard  that  the  cleverest  men  in 
public  business  were  always  the  greatest  fools  in  private 
life. 

She  drove  away  in  the  radiance  of  the  late  afternoon  in 
the  Archduke's  carriage,  Boo  sitting  opposite  to  her  hold- 
ing disconsolately  a  bouquet  of  orchids,  of  which  the 
rarity  did  not  compensate  to  her  for  not  having  got  any- 
thing else. 

"  What  a  pity  that  man  does  not  marry  again,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  as  they  passed  through  the  olive  and  ilex 
woods  of  the  park. 

"I  believe  he  is  in  love  with  his  lost  wife,"  said  Mouse. 

"  Very  possibly,"  replied  the  Archduke.  "  I  remember 
her  as  a  young  girl ;  her  beauty  was  quite  extraordinary  ; 
it  was  her  misfortune,  for  it  was  the  cause  of  his  jeal- 
ousy." 

"  Jealous !     That  serene  impassive  man  ?  " 

"  The  serenity  is  acquired,  and  the  impassiveness  is  an 
armor.  He  is  a  person  of  strong  passions  and  deep  affec- 


THE  MASSARENES.  493 

tions.  He  adored  his  wife,  and  I  have  always  supposed 
that  his  susceptibilities  were  played  upon  by  some  lago." 

"  But  what  lago  ?     And  why  ?  " 

"  Her  father,  perhaps,  and  out  of  spite.  But  I  really 
know  nothing,"  said  the  Archduke,  recollecting  himself, 
the  good  wines  of  Les  Mouettes  having  loosened  his 
tongue  to  unusual  loquacity. 

"  He  didn't  give  me  anything  to-day  !  "  said  Boo  woe- 
fully from  the  front  seat ;  she  was  unrewarded  for  her 
painful  goodness,  for  her  sweetly-imitated  shyness,  for  the 
self-denial  with  which  she  had  held  her  tongue,  and  bored 
herself  to  play  ball  noiselessly  with  that  stout,  bald,  florid 
aide-de-camp. 

The  Archduke  laughed. 

"Giving  is  a  delightful  privilege,"  he  said;  "but  when 
we  know  that  all  the  world  is  expecting  us  to  give,  the 
pastime  palls.  Adrian  Vanderlin  has  felt  that  from  the 
time  he  was  in  his  nursery.  You  must  allow  me  to 
remedy  his  omission  in  this  instance,  my  charming  little 
friend." 

Mouse  went  home  sorely  out  of  temper ;  it  seemed  to 
her  quite  monstrous  that  two  persons,  like  this  man  and 
Billy's  daughter,  should  each  have  had  command  given 
them  of  a  vast  fortune  by  which  they  were  each  only 
bored,  whilst  she  who  would  have  spent  such  a  fortune  so 
well,  and  with  so  much  enjoyment,  was  left  a  victim  to 
the  most  sordid  anxieties.  There  was  certainly  something 
wrong  in  the  construction  of  the  universe.  She  felt  al- 
most disposed  to  be  a  socialist. 

As  she  went  up  the  staircase  of  her  hotel  she  was  roused 
from  her  meditations  by  Boo's  voice,  which  was  saying 
plaintively  again,  "  He  didn't  give  me  anything  to-day !  " 

"I  am  very  glad  he  did  not,"  said  her  mother.  "You 
are  a  greedy,  shameless,  gobbling  little  cat." 

"  You're  the  cat  and  I'm  your  kitten,"  thought  her 
young  daughter,  but  Boo,  saucy  and  bold  as  she  was, 
never  dared  to  be  impudent  to  her  mother. 

When  they  had  left  him  Vanderlin  went  up  to  his  bed- 
chamber, unlocked  a  drawer  in  a  cabinet,  and  took  out  of 
it  two  portraits,  one  of  his  divorced  wife,  the  other  of  her 
dead  child. 


494  THE  MASSARENES. 

He  looked  at  them  long  with  slow,  hot  tears  welling  up 
into  his  eyes. 

He  would  have  given  all  the  millions  which  men  envied 
him  to  have  had  the  child  playing  at  his  side,  and  the 
mother  with  her  hand  in  his. 

A  sorrow  of  the  affections  may  not  affect  the  health,  the 
strength,  the  mind,  the  occupations,  or  the  general  life  of 
a  man,  but  it  embitters  it  as  a  single  drop  of  wormwood 
can  embitter  the  whole  clearness  and  brightness  of  a  bowl 
of  pure  water  ;  the  bowl  may  be  of  silver,  may  be  of  gold, 
but  the  water  in  it  is  spoilt  for  ever;  and  he  who  must 
drink  from  it  envies  the  peasant  the  wooden  cup  which  he 
fills  and  refills  at  a  purling  stream. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  495 


CHAPTER   XL. 

PRINCE  KHRTS  of  Karstein  was  at  Monte  Carlo  playing 
continuously,  losing  almost  always,  living  in  a  miserable 
lodging  over  a  small  shop,  and  devoting,  to  that  blind 
goddess  with  a  thousand  hands  who  is  called  Play,  his 
clothes,  his  sustenance,  his  last  rings  and  shirt  studs.  He 
did  this  every  winter,  and  every  spring  he  was  supplied 
afresh  through  his  daughter's  means,  and  went  to  Spa  or 
Luchon  and  did  the  same.  From  Germany  he  was 
banned. 

One  day  at  the  Casino  he  saw  the  Duchess  of  Otter- 
bourne  stretching  out  her  slender  hand  between  a  Jew 
broker  and  a  Paris  cocotte  to  put  some  gold  upon  the  red. 

"  Ah !  blonde  devil !  blonde  devil !  "  he  thought  to  him- 
self, and  wished  he  might  see  her  lose  her  last  farthing 
and  crawl  under  a  hedge  to  drink  her  last  dose  of  morphia. 
But  this  he  knew  he  was  not  likely  to  see,  nor  anyone  else, 
for  she  was  not  the  kind  of  person  who  kills  herself,  and 
at  play  she  generally  won,  for  she  kept  quite  cool  at  it  and 
never  let  it  run  away  with  her  judgment. 

He  hated  her  intensely ;  he  had  never  liked  her,  but 
when  she  had  shut  Harrenden  House  to  him,  she  had  ex- 
cited and  merited  his  most  bitter  detestation.  She  had 
not  played  fair,  and  Prince  Khris,  though  he  might  cheat, 
abhorred  being  cheated ;  he  felt  it  an  insult  to  his  intelli- 
gence. He  had  discovered  the  Massarenes  before  she  had 
done  so ;  they  had  been  his  placer-claim,  his  treasure  isle, 
his  silver  mine  ;  she  had  come  after  him  and  profited  and 
plundered.  This  he  might  have  pardoned  if  she  had  kept 
faith  with  him  and  gone  shares.  But  she  had  acted 
treacherously.  She  had  mined  the  ground  under  his  feet. 
She  had  taught  these  ignorant  people  to  know  him  as  he 
was.  She  had  made  them  understand  that  they  must  drop 
him,  shake  him  off;  that  to  be  seen  with  him  did  them 
social  harm,  not  good.  She  had  annexed  them  and  made 
them  hers ;  she  had  created  a  monopoly  in  them  for  her- 


49G  THE  MASSAUENES. 

self.  She  had  taken  them  with  her  into  spheres  the  en- 
trance into  which  had  long  been  forfeited  by  himself. 
And  all  this  had  been  done  so  skilfully,  with  so  much 
coolness  and  acumen,  that  he  had  been  powerless  to  op- 
pose it.  The  dinners  of  Harrenden  House  had  become  to 
him  things  of  the  past ;  the  Clodion  falconer  which  he 
had  found  for  them  saw  him  no  more  pass  up  their  stair- 
case ;  they  were  ungrateful  like  all  low-bred  people,  and 
she  triumphed. 

"  The  blonde  devil !  the  blonde  devil ! "  he  said  with  a 
curse. 

But  for  her  they  would  in  all  likelihood  have  remained 
unknown  to  immaculate  society,  and  would  to  the  end  of 
time  have  believed  in  himself  as  a  semi-royal  divinity, 
knowing  nothing  of  the  stains  on  his  purples,  nothing  of 
the  cankered  breast  which  rotted  under  the  ribbons  of  his 
orders. 

She  had  not  been  so  clever  as  the  groom  of  the  cham- 
ber at  Harrenden  House  had  thought  her ;  she  had  not 
gone  shares  fairly  with  her  predecessor  in  the  exploitation 
of  the  Massarerie  vein. 

She  had  made  an  enemy  of  him.  She  thought  his 
enmity  was  of  no  consequence  because  he  was  a  person 
wholly  discredited  and  despised,  but  in  this  she  was 
greatly  mistaken  ;  because  water  is  muddy  it  is  not  there- 
fore incapable  of  drowning  you. 

Khris  Kar,  who  was  a  person  of  extreme  intelligence, 
guessed  all  her  motives  and  all  her  modes  of  action,  and 
divined  exactly  all  she  said  against  him. 

It  is  always  a  dangerous  and  difficult  thing  to  "  drop 
people,"  and  neither  the  master  nor  the  mistress  of  Har- 
renden House  had  tact  and  experience  enough  to  do  it  in 
the  least  offensive  manner.  Indeed.  Massarene  himself 
enjoyed  doing  it  offensively ;  it  made  him  feel  a  greater 
swell  than  ever  to  be  able  to  be  rude  and  slighting  to  a 
person  of  the  original  rank  of  Prince  Khris.  It  afflicted 
the  tenderer  heart  of  his  wife,  but  she  did  not  dare  to  dis- 
obey orders,  and  despite  his  rage  the  old  prince  could  not 
be  otherwise  than  amused  to  note  the  elaborate  devices 
with  which  she  shifted  her  parasol  so  as  not  to  see  him  in 
the  Park,  and  fumbled  with  her  handkerchief  or  her  fan 


THE  MASSARENES.  497 

as  he  approached  at  a  concert  or  a  theatre  to  avoid  offer- 
ing him  her  hand. 

He  read  his  fair  foe's  tactics  in  the  stiff  and  frightened 
manner  of  the  Massarenes  toward  him;  he  saw  that. they 
had  been  warned  he  was  a  bird  of  prey,  that  they  were 
afraid  to  say  anything  to  his  face,  and  could  only  clumsily 
draw  away  from  him.  He  was  used  to  this  treatment ' 
from  his  equals,  but  in  these  low  creatures  it  stung  him 
painfully ;  he  felt  like  a  disabled  hawk  having  its  eyes 
pecked  out  by  a  crow.  As  he  watched,  as  time  went  on, 
the  upward  progress  of  these  people  into  that  higher 
world  for  ever  closed  to  himself,  he  knew  that  she  had 
done  for  them  what  he  had  lost  all  power  of  doing  for 
them  or  for  anyone.  He  acknowledged  her  superiority, 
but  her  treachery  he  intended  to  repay  at  the  earliest 
opportunity.  One  does  not  pull  a  ferret  out  of  a  rabbit- 
burrow  without  being  bitten. 

As  it  chanced  there  came  into  his  hands  a  weekly 
journal  published  at  Nice  which  contained  such  items  of 
social  intelligence  as  it  was  thought  would  interest  the 
visitors  to  the  Riviera,  and  amongst  these  was  a  paragraph 
which  spoke  of  the  boating  accident  to  the  Duchess  of 
Otterbourne  and  the  coolness  and  courage  displayed  by 
that  lady;  it  mentioned  that  the  accident  had  happened 
off  the  terraces  of  the  Mouettes.  As  he  read,  he  thought 
he  saw  between  the  lines ;  he  suspected  the  accident  was 
one  of  design ;  he  suspected  the  rescue  of  the  child  by 
her  mother  was  a  brilliant  coup  de  theatre,  done  with  in- 
tention to  arouse  the  interest  of  a  solitary. 

He  made  a  few  careful  discreet  inquiries ;  he  found  that 
Vanderlin  had  been  .to  see  her  at  her  hotel;  he  learned 
that  the  circumstances  of  the  fair  swimmer  were  embar- 
rassed, which  did  not  surprise  him  ;  he  heard  some  gossi- 
per  laugh  and  say  that  she  was  intending  to  marry  the 
great  banker ;  he  saw  as  completely  into  her  mind  and 
soul  as  if  he  had  been  Mephistopheles. 

He  promised  himself  that  she  should  not  succeed. 

Some  remorseful    regret    occasionally   stirred   in   him 
when  he  thought  of  his  daughter's  lonely  life,  and  when 
he  remembered  the  passionate  love  which  had  been  rup- 
tured when  she  and  Vanderlin  had  parted.     He  was  a 
32 


498  THE  MASSAKENES. 

bad  old  man  with  a  shrivelled  heart  and  a  numbed  con- 
science, bat  he  was  human. 

Mouse  was  at  that  time  especially  irritated  and  de- 
pressed. There  had  come  to  Cannes  that  week  a  young 
beauty,  a  mere  child,  but  of  extreme  loveliness  and  won- 
derful coloring,  very  much  what  Boo  would  be  in  a  few 
more  years.  This  young  girl,  an  Austrian  just  married  to 
a  Russian  thrice  her  age,  had  turned  all  heads  and  occu- 
pied all  tongues  at  Cannes,  and  Mouse,  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life,  had  the  uncomfortable  sensation  of  being 
eclipsed,  of  being  rather  out  of  it,  as  she  would  have  said 
in  her  own  phraseology. 

It  was  a  dull  and  unpleasant  feeling  which  filled  her 
with  resentment,  and  made  her  stare  into  her  mirror  with 
an  anxiety  and  uncertainty  wholly  new  to  her. 

She  was  in  this  kind  of  mood  when  Prince  Khris 
walked  up  the  steps  of  her  hotel. 

She  had  come  in  from  driving,  fretful  and  disposed  to 
think  that  life  was  more  trouble  than  it  was  worth,  when 
they  brought  her  a  card,  and  said  the  gentleman  who 
owned  it  was  waiting  downstairs. 

"  Khris  Kar !  What  can  he  possibly  want  with  me  ?  " 
she  wondered.  She  was  disposed  to  let  him  remain  down- 
stairs, and  she  was  in  no  mood  for  visitors,  especially  those 
who  could  be  of  no  possible  use  or  amusement  to  her. 

Then  she  reflected  that  she  had  not  behaved  very  well 
to  him,  that  he  had  at  one  time  been  very  intimate  at 
Harrenden  House,  and  also  that  he  had  been  the  father-in- 
law,  at  all  events  for  a  few  years,  of  the  master  of  Les 
Mouettes. 

"  Show  him  up,"  she  said  irritably  to  her  servant.  In 
another  minute  the  old  man  entered,  frailer,  thinner,  with 
the  gold  dye  on  his  hair  more  visible,  but  bland  and 
polished  as  before,  and  with  the  same  keen,  intent  gleam 
in  his  pale-blue  eyes.  She  welcomed  him  sweetly,  sup- 
pressing a  yawn,  and  seemed  as  if  it  were  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  to  receive  a  man  against  whom 
society  had  long  closed  all  its  doors. 

Who  could  tell  what  old  Khris  might  know  ?  She  was 
well  aware  that  she  had  ousted  him  out  of  Harrenden 
House. 


TEE  MASSARENES.  499 

"You  are  not  looking  well,  Prince,"  she  said  with  solici- 
tude, offering  him  her  little  silver  tray  of  cigarettes. 

"  Old  age,  old  age  !  "  said  Prince  Khris  airily,  as  he  took 
a  cigarette  and  lighted  it.  "  How  happy  are  you,  Duchess, 
who  are  in  all  the  wonder  blossoming  of  your  youth !  " 

"  That  is  a  nasty  one,"  thought  Mouse,  for  she  knew 
that  when  your  children  are  growing  up  speeches  of  this 
kind  have  a  sub-acid  flavor  which  it  is  intended  should  be 
distinctly  tasted  by  you. 

He  settled  himself  comfortably  in  the  lounging-chair  he 
occupied,  and  blew  the  perfumed  smoke  into  the  air. 

"  I  am  especially  fortunate  to  find  you  alone,"  he  said. 
"  May  I  at  once  mention  the  purport  of  my  visit,  for  I 
know  how  rare  it  is  to  be  favored  by  a  tete-a-tete  with  you 
when  one  is,  alas,  old  and  uninteresting!" 

"  Pray  say  anything  you  like,"  she  replied,  the  sweet- 
ness beginning  to  go  out  of  her  manner  and  the  softness 
out  of  her  voice,  for  she  felt  that  whatever  his  purpose 
might  be  it  was  not  amiable. 

"  Allow  me,  then,"  said  the  old  man  very  suavely,  "  to 
ask  you  if  it  be  true  what  people  say  in  these  places — • 
that  you  intend  to  marry  my  ex-son-in-law,  Adrian 
Vanderlin  ?  " 

She  was  silent  from  astonishment  and  annoyance.  She 
did  not  want  to  have  the  keen  eyes  of  this  old  gambler 
watching  her  cards. 

"  There  is  not  the  smallest  authority  for  such  a  state- 
ment," she  answered  with  hauteur,  "and  I  think  you 
might  phrase  your  inquiry  more  courteously." 

He  smiled  and  made  a  little  gesture  with  the  cigarette, 
indicative  of  apology  or  derision,  as  she  chose  to  take  it. 

"  Why  should  not  either  or  both  of  them  marry 
again?"  she  asked,  her  anxiety  on  the  matter  getting  the 
better  of  her  prudence  and  good  taste. 

"Dear  lady,"  replied  Prince  Khris,  "it  seems  incredible 
to  properly  constituted  minds,  but  there  are  actually  per- 
sons so  disposed  by  nature  that  they  only  love  once  !  It 
is  a  lamentable  limitation  of  what  was  intended  to  be  our 
most  agreeable  and  varied  pastime  ;  but  so  it  is.  You 
know  there  are  some  persons  who  take  everything  seri- 
ously, and  drink  sparkling  Moselle  with  a  long  face." 


500  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  Perhaps  they  will  re-marry  each  other  ?  It  is  not 
against  the  law,  I  believe." 

"  No ;  it  is  not  against  the  law,  probably  because  no 
lawmakers  ever  thought  such  a  case  possible." 

"How  he  dislikes  them  both !"  she  thought.  "Per- 
haps because  they  didn't  give  him  enough  money,  or  per- 
haps because  they  are  maintaining  him  now." 

It  seemed  to  her  experienced  mind  that  you  would 
naturally  hate  anybody  who  maintained  you. 

"I  heard  of  a  boat  upset  beneath  the  terraces  of  Les 
Mouettes,  of  an  intrepid  sauvetage  of  your  lovely  little 
girl  on  your  own  fair  shoulders,"  murmured  Prince  Khris. 
"  I  hope  the  master  of  the  chateau  was  grateful,  but  I 
doubt  it ;  men  of  business  are  sceptical  rather  than  im- 
pressionable. I  hope  you  took  no  cold?" 

"  None  whatever,"  said  Mouse  crossly  and  curtly,  for 
she  felt  herself  devinee,  and  this  sensation  is  never  sooth- 
ing to  the  nerves. 

"I  am  charmed  to  hear  it.  But  is  it  true  that  you  have 
an  intention  to  render  still  richer  than  he  is  the  singularly 
ungrateful  person  who  is  called  the  Christian  Rothschild  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said  sullenly ; 
"and  I  don't  know  what  this  man,  Christian  or  Jew,  can 
matter  to  you.  He  divorced  your  daughter." 

It  was  more  than  a  rude  thing,  it  was  an  ill-bred  thing 
to  say,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  so  ;  but  her  temper  goo 
the  better  of  her  prudence,  as  it  had  done  in  her  interview 
with  Beaumont. 

Prince  Khris  remained  unmoved. 

"  That  is  matter  of  history,"  he  said  serenely.  "  The 
man,  as  you  call  him  (who  is  unquestionably  a  Christian), 
may  have  been  touched  by  that  heroic  spectacle  of  a 
modern  Aphrodite  battling  with  the  waves.  No  doubt  it 
was  intended  that  he  should  be  touched.  All  that  I  wish 
to  say,  dear  Duchess,  is  this,  that  if  the  report  be  true 
that  you  intend  to  marry  him — and  it  may  be,  for  million- 
aires are  the  only  men  worth  marrying — I  merely  venture 
to  say  that  I — well,  in  a  word,  I  should  prevent  it.  That 
is  all." 

She  stared  at  him  in  unaffected  amazement,  and  her 
anger  was  as  real  as  her  surprise. 


THE  HASSAEENES.  501 

"4How  dare  you  say  such  things  to  me  ?  "  she  said  in 
great  offence.  "  You  would  venture  to  imply  that  the 
boat  was  upset  on  purpose  !  " 

Pie  laughed  a  little  softly. 

44  The  unaided  apropos  is  rarely  of  occurrence  in  this 
life.  But  perhaps  M.  Vandeiiin  was  impressed  by  the 
accident ;  men  of  finance  are  sometimes  children  in  mat- 
ters outside  their  counting-houses.  However,  all  I  de- 
sired, Duchess,  is  to  intimate  to  you  that  if  you  have  any 
intention  of  marrying  the  man  who,  as  you  remarked, 
divorced  my  daughter,  I  shall  not  permit  the  marriage  to 
take  place." 

"  How  can  you  prevent  it  ?  " 

44  That  is  my  affair.  Rest  assured  only  that  I  can  and 
that  I  shall." 

She  was  silent,  intensely  irritated  and  uncertain  how  to 
treat  him ;  she  was  aware  that  there  was  something 
ludicrous  and  undignified  in  her  position ;  she  could  not 
allege  that  Vanderlin  had  any  intention  to  marry  her ; 
she  had  been  taken  off  her  guard  and  placed  in  a  position 
of  absurd  embarrassment. 

What  could  this  old  man  mean?  He  was  too  keen  and 
experienced  a  person  to  menace  what  he  had  not  the 
ability  to  carry  out.  Had  he  known  anything  of  her  re- 
lations with  Massarene? 

She  knew  that  he  had  a  long  score  against  her  to  pay 
off,  that  he  must  hate  her  arid  would  make  her  feel  its 
hatred  if  he  could;  but  he  was  not  a  man  to  indulge  in 
unprofitable  rancor. 

She  said  between  her  teeth :  "  Do  you  suppose,  if  I 
wished  to  marry  any  man,  I  shouldn't  do  it  ?  " 

44  It  is  impossible  to  say,"  murmured  Prince  Khris. 
44  There  are  some  persons  so  perverted  that  they  do  not 
like  new-mown  hay  or  early  strawberries.  There  may  be 
also  persons  so  dead  to  beauty  and  to  virtue  that  they  do 
not  appreciate  the  exquisite  qualities  of  the  Duchess  of 
Otterbourne." 

44  You  old  wretch !  "  she  thought,  with  difficulty  con- 
trolling herself  from  ordering  him  out  of  the  room.  44 1 
had  not  the  remotest  intention  of  annexing  your  ci-devant 


502  THE  MASSARENES. 

son-in-law,"  she  said  aloud;  "but  as  you  have  put  the 
idea  in  my  head,  perhaps  I  shall  do  it." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  is  I  who  put  it  there?"  said  Prince 
Khris,  smiling.  "  Then  allow  me  to  take  it  out  again.  I 
do  not  intend  you  to  marry  Adrian  Vanderlin." 

"What  business  would  it  be  of  yours  if  I  did?  He 
disgraced  your  daughter  before  all  Europe." 

His  face  remained  impassive.  u  You  cannot  wonder, 
then,  if  only  out  of  vengeance  I  shall  deny  him  the 
paradise  of  your  embrace  !  Be  my  motive  what  it  will, 
dear  lady,  take  this  for  certain  :  I  shall  not  allow  you  to 
carry  out  your  present  scheme." 

"  Sir !  "  Anger  flashed  from  her  sapphire  eyes,  her 
voice  was  stifled  by  rage.  Her  "  scheme  " ! — as  if  she 
were  an  intriguing  horizontale,  a  nameless  adventuress! 

He  laid  down  the  cigarette  which  he  had  appreciated 
and  finished. 

"  Remember,"  he  said  serenety — "  I  can  say  that  to 
Vanderlin  which  will  prevent  him  from  marrying  you  or 
any  other  woman." 

"  I  shall  tell  him  that  is  your  boast." 

"  You  can  tell  him  if  you  like.  He  will  not  believe  you, 
and  he  certainly  will  not  question  me." 

"  But  what  could  his  marriage,  were  there  any  question 
of  it,  matter  to  you?"  Her  curiosity  got  the  better  of 
her  rage. 

"  That  is  my  affair,"  he  replied.  "  To  be  quite  frank 
with  you,  it  does  not  matter  to  me  in  the  least,  but  I  do 
not  intend  you  to  step  into  my  daughter's  place.  She  is 
my  daughter,  though  many  years  have  passed  since  I  saw 
her  ;  and  you,  madame,  shall  not  sit  where  she  sat,  love 
where  she  loved,  sleep  where  she  slept;  you  shall  not  do 
her  that  injury.  A  sentimentalism,  you  think.  No,  I  am 
not  sentimental,  though  I  come  of  the  land  of  Werther. 
But  a  few  years  ago  you  did  me  a  bad  turn  when  I  was 
weak  enough  to  trust  you,  and  I  do  not  forget  easily.  I 
can  prevent  you  from  reaching  the  Canaan  of  Vanderlin's 
wealth,  and  I  intend  to  do  so.  I  know  what  you  would 
do  ;  you  would  entice  him  with  exquisite  skill,  and  it  is 
possible  that  you  would  make  him  your  dupe  ;  in  finance 
he  is  clever,  but  in  the  affections  he  is  a  child.  Well,  take 


THti  MASSARENES.  503 

warning ;  let  him  alone,  for  if  you  attempt  to  succeed 
wifrh  him,  I  shall  intervene.  That  is  all.  I  have  told  you 
to  desist  because  I  am  not  desirous  of  approaching  the 
man  who,  as  you  observed,  dishonored  my  daughter  before 
all  Europe.  But  if  you  do  not  listen  to  good  counsels  I 
shall  do  so,  for  I  repeat  I  do  not  intend  you  ever  to  reach 
the  Canaan  of  his  riches." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  any  reply  from  her,  he  rose, 
bowed  with  the  courtly  grace  which  to  the  last  dis- 
tinguished him,  and  left  her  presence  walking  with  that 
feebleness  which  infirmity  and  years  entailed,  but  with  a 
pleased  smile  upon  his  face  and  as  much  alacrity  as  he 
could  command,  for  he  was  in  his  haste  to  return  to  the 
tables  of  Monte  Carlo. 

She  remained  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  staring  at  the  smoked- 
out  cigarette  which  he  had  left  behind  him  on  the  ash 
tray. 

She  had  been  so  utterly  astonished,  humiliated,  and 
disgusted  that  she  had  not  had  presence  of  mind  enough 
to  charge  him  with  having  brought  about  his  daughter's 
ruin  by  his  own  intrigues  and  falsehoods. 

Unfortunately  too  she  knew  so  little,  so  very  little,  only 
what  the  Archduke  Franz  had  hinted  to  her,  and  with  that 
weak  weapon  of  mere  conjecture  she  could  not  have  dis- 
comfited so  skilled  and  accomplished  a  master  of  fence  as 
was  Prince  Khristopher  of  Karstein. 

How  she  wished,  oh !  how  she  wished  that  she  had  let 
him  have  his  fair  share  of  the  spoils  of  Harrenden  House  ! 
There  are  few  things  more  utterly  painful  than  to  have 
done  mean,  ungenerous,  and  dishonorable  acts,  and  find 
them  all  like  a  nest  of  vipers  torpid  from  cold  which 
have  been  warmed  on  your  hearth  and  uncurl  and  hiss  at 
you. 

"  My  great  uncle  came  to  call  on  you  !  "  said  young 
Prince  Woffram  with  astonishment  and  curiosity.  "I 
saw  him  in  the  hall ;  I  don't  speak  to  him,  you  know — we 
none  of  us  do.  But  I  felt  sorry— 

"  So  do  I  whenever  I  see  him,"  said  Mouse  in  her 
frankest  and  sweetest  manner.  c'  I  have  always  stood  by 
him,  you  know.  He  is  so  courtly  and  charming  and  now 
so  old.  It  is  horribly  cruel,  I  think,  to  shut  one's  doors  on 


504  THE  MASSAEENES. 

a  man  of  that  age.  He  may  have  been  all  they  say — I 
suppose  he  has — but  his  sins  must  have  been  over  before 
we  were  born,  and  when  anybody  is  so  old  as  that  I,  for 
one,  really  cannot  be  unkind." 

What  an  angel  she  was !  thought  the  young  grand- 
nephew  of  Prince  Khris ;  an  angel  of  modern  make,  with 
wings  of  chiffon,  which  would  not  perhaps  stand  a  shower 
of  rain  or  a  buffet  of  wind,  but  still  an  angel ! 


THE  MAS8ARENE&  505 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

"  LORD  !  my  dear  Ronnie,"  exclaimed  Daddy  Gwyllian, 
"what  poor  short-sighted  creatures  we  are  with  all  our 
worldly  wisdom  !  To  think  that  I  ever  advised  you  to  do 
such  a  thing !  Lord  !  I  might  have  ruined  you ! " 

His  astonishment  and  repentance  were  so  extreme  and 
sincere  that  Hurstmanceaux  was  bewildered. 

44  What  did  you  ever  advise  me  to  do,"  he  asked,  "  that 
would  have  ruined  me?  " 

"  I  told  you  to  marry  her." 

"  To  marry  whom  ?  " 

"  Massarene's  daughter." 

Hurstmanceaux's  face  changed.  "I  believe  you  did," 
he  said  stiffly.  "  I  am  glad  you  see  the  impropriety  of 
telling  a  poor  man  to  marry  a  rich  woman." 

"  But  she  isn't  a  rich  woman  ! "  cried  the  poor  match- 
maker in  almost  a  shriek  of  remorse.  "I  might  have  led 
you  to  your  ruin.  She  has  gone  and  given  it  all  away !  " 

Hurstmanceaux  turned  quickly  to  him  with  animation. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  Given  what  away  ?  Her  father's 
fortune  ?  " 

"Read  that,"  said  Gwyllian.  "Oh,  Lord,  that  fools 
should  ever  have  money,  and  sensible  folks  be  worn  into 
their  graves  for  want  of  it !  " 

,  What  he  gave  Ronald  to  read  was  a  column  in  a  leading 
journal  of  Paris  and  New  York ;  an  article  adorned  by 
a  woodcut  which  was  labelled  a  portrait  of  Katherine 
Massarene,  and  resembled  her  as  much  as  it  did  a  Burmese 
idol  or  a  face  on  a  door-knocker.  The  article,  which  was 
long,  abounded  in  large  capital  letters  and  startling  italics. 
Its  hyperbolic  and  hysterical  language,  being  translated 
into  the  language  of  sober  sense,  stated  that  the  daughter 
of  the  "  bull-dozing  boss,"  so  well  known  in  the  States  as 
William  Massarene,  having  inherited  the  whole  of  his  vast 
wealth,  had  come  over  to  America  incognita,  had  spent 
some  months  in  the  study  of  life  as  seen  in  the  city  of 


506  THE  MASSASEN 

Kerosene,  and  the  adjacent  townships  and  provinces, .and 
Laving  made  herself  intimately  acquainted  with  the  people 
and  the  institutions,  had  divided  two-thirds  of  her  inherit- 
ance between  those  who  had  shared  in  any  way  in  the 
making  of  that  wealth,  or  whose  descendants  were  in 
want. 

She  had  devoted  another  large  portion  of  it  to  the 
creation  of  various  asylums  and  institutions  and  provision 
for  human  and  animal  needs  in  both  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland,  whilst  the  valuable  remainder  had  been  divided 
amongst  many  poor  families  of  County  Down.  The  jour- 
nal said,  in  conclusion,  that  she  had  purchased  an  annuity 
for  her  mother,  which  would  give  that  lady  double  the 
annual  income  allotted  to  her  under  William  Massarene's 
will ;  and  that  for  herself  she  had  kept  nothing,  not  a  red 
cent.  The  editor  added  a  personal  note  stating  that  Miss 
Massarene  had  certainly  made  no  provision  for  her  own 
maintenance,  since  she  had  forgotten  to  endow  a  lunatic 
asylum ! 

The  column  closed  with  the  total  in  plain  figures  of  the 
enormous  property  which  had  been  thus  broken  up  and 
distributed.  Hurstmanceaux  read  it  in  silence  from  the 
first  line  to  the  last;  then  in  silence  returned  it  to  Daddy 
Gwyllian. 

"  Isn't  it  heaven's  mercy  you  didn't  marry  her !  "  cried 
Daddy.  "  To  be  sure  you  would  have  prevented  this. 
She  must  be  stark  staring  mad,  you  know;  the  paper 
hints  as  much." 

"  If  she  had  consulted  the  Seven  Sages  and  the  Four 
Evangelists,  she  could  not  have  been  advised  by  them  to 
act  more  wisely  or  more  well,"  replied  Hurstmanceaux 
with  emphasis.  "  Good-bye,  Daddy.  Leave  off  match- 
making, or  you  may  burn  your  fingers  at  it." 

He  went  away  without  more  comment,  and  Daddy  stood 
staring  after  him  with  round,  wide-open  eyes.  Was  it 
possible  that  anybody  lived  who  could  consider  such  a 
course  of  action  praiseworthy  or  sane  ? 

"  But  Ronnie  was  always  as  mad  as  a  hatter  himself," 
he  thought  sorrowfully  as  he  button-holed  another  friend, 
and  displayed  his  Parisian-American  paper. 

"  Ah,   yes — frightful   insanity  !  "    said   the   newcomer. 


THE  MASSAUENE8.  507 

"I've  just  seen  it  in  Truth.  It  was  wired.  Enough  to 
make  old  Billy  get  up  out  of  his  grave,  don't  you  think? 
Sit  transit  gloria  mundi." 

"Damned  socialistic  thing  to  do,"  said  a  third  who 
joined  them  and  who  also  had  seen  Truth.  "  Horrible  bad 
example  !  If  property  isn't  inviolate  to  your  heirs,  where 
are  you  ?  If  there  isn't  solidarity  amongst  the  holders 
of  property,  what  can  keep  back  the  nationalization  of 
property?  " 

No  one  could  say  what  would. 

"This  is  what  comes  of  young  women  reading  Herbert 
Spencer  and  Goldwin  Smith,"  said  a  fourth. 

"These  men  are  not  communists,"  said  the  previous 
speaker.  "  This  lady's  act  is  rank  communism." 

"Can't  one  do  what  one  likes  with  one's  own?"  asked 
another. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  the  gentleman  who  dreaded 
the  nationalization  of  property.  "  We  should  first  con- 
sider the  effect  of  what  we  do  on  the  world  at  large.  This 
young  woman  (I  never  liked  her)  has  said  practically  to 
the  many  millions  of  operatives  all  the  world  over  that 
capital  is  a  crime." 

"  Capital,  acquired  as  Billy's  was,  is  uncommonly  near 
a  crime,"  murmured  the  first  speaker. 

"  Capital  by  its  mere  consolidation  becomes  purified," 
said  the  other  angrily,  "  as  carbon  becomes  by  crystalliza- 
tion a  diamond.  This  young  wroman  has  practically  told 
every  beggar  throughout  both  hemispheres  that  he  has  a 
right  to  grind  the  diamonds  into  dust." 

"I  always  thought  her  plain,"  said  a  more  frivolous 
listener. 

"Fine  eyes,  fine  figure,  but  plain,"  said  another,  "and 
she  was  always  so  rude  to  the  Prince." 

"  Rude  to  everybody,  and  alwa}rs  looked  bored,"  said  a 
person  whose  hand  she  had  rejected. 

"Subversive,"  said  the  upholder  of  property.  "Very 
odd :  her  father  was  so  sound  in  all  his  views." 

"  I  think  Billy'll  wake  and  walk  !  "  said  the  gentleman 
who  had  before  expressed  this  opinion ;  "  all  his  pile  split 
up  into  matchwood  !  " 

Daddy  G  wyllian  felt  so  vexed  that  he  left  them  discuss- 


508  THE  MASSAEENES. 

ing  the  matter  and  went  home.  Why  could  not  Ronnie 
have  made  himself  agreeable  to  her  before  this  horrible 
socialistic  idea  had  come  into  her  head,  and  so  have  held 
all  that  marvellously  solid  fortune  together?  It  made 
him  quite  sad  to  think  of  these  millions  of  good  money 
frittered  away  in  asylums  and  refuges  and  the  dirty  hands 
of  a  lot  of  hungry  people. 

Even  Harrenden  House  was  sold,  they  said,  just  as  it 
stood,  with  all  its  admirable  works  of  art,  and  the  beckon- 
ing falconer  of  Clodion  at  the  head  of  the  staircase. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne  was 
also  reading  this  article  in  the  Paris-New  York  journal. 
She  thought  it  a  hoax;  a  yarn  spun  by  some  mischievous 
spinner  of  sensational  stories.  When  she  heard  however 
from  all  sides  that  it  was  true,  she  felt  a  kind  of  relief. 

"Nobody  will  know  her  now,"  she  thought.  "So  she 
won't  be  able  to  talk.  It  is  really  enough  to  wake  that 
brute  in  his  grave.  I  always  considered  her  odious,  but 
I  should  never  have  supposed  she  was  mad." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  she  asked  Vanderlin,  whom 
she  met  the  day  she  had  read  of  this  amazing  piece  of  folly. 
He  had  not  heard  of  it :  she  described  the  salient  features 
of  the  narrative. 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  lady  or  of  the  sources  of  the 
fortune  she  has  broken  up,"  he  replied,  "so  I  cannot 
judge.  But  if  she  wishes  to  be  at  peace  she  has  acted 
very  wisely  for  herself." 

Mouse  heard  with  an  impatience  which  she  could  not 
conceal. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  asked  point  blank,  "  that  you  would 
like  to  lose  your  fortune?" 

"  One  must  never  say  those  things  aloud,  madame,"  he 
replied.  "  For  the  boutade  of  a  discontented  moment  may 
be  repeated  in  print  by  these  Paul  Prys  of  the  Press  as 
the  serious  conviction  of  a  lifetime." 

"How  I  loathe  your  diplomatic  answers !"  she  thought, 
much  irritated  at  her  perpetual  failure  to  entice  him  out 
of  his  habitual  reserve.  "  One  can't  talk  at  all  unless  one 
says  what  one  thinks,"  she  answered  impatiently. 

He  smiled  slightly  again. 
*   "  I  should  rather  have  supposed  that  the  chief  necessity 


THE  MASSARENES.  609 

in  social  intercourse  was  to  successfully  repress  one's  sin-  \ 
cerity  :  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

44  You  are  a  very  tantalizing  person  to  talk  to ! "  she 
said  with  a  chagrin  which  was  real. 

44  Why  insist  on  talking  to  me  then  ?  "  thought  Vander- 
lin,  and  he  let  the  conversation  drop ;  it  was  too  personal 
for  his  taste. 

Her  verdict,  more  or  less  softened,  was  the  verdict  of 
the  world  in  general  on  Katherine  Massarene's  action. 

The  action  was  insane,  and  to  English  and  American 
society  offensive. 

The  world  considered  it  had  warmed  an  adder  in  its 
breast.  Everybody  had  known  her  only  because  of  her 
money,  and  now  she  had  stripped  herself  of  her  money, 
and  would  expect  to  know  them  just  the  same ! 

Besides,  what  a  shocking  example  !  Ought  big  brewers, 
instead  of  ascending  to  the  celestial  regions  of  the  Upper 
House,  to  strip  themselves  of  their  capital  and  build  ine- 
briate asylums  ?  Ought  big  bankers,  instead  of  going  to 
court  and  marrying  dukes'  daughters,  to  live  on  bread 
and  cheese,  and  give  their  millions  in  pensions  and  bon- 
uses? Ought  big  manufacturers,  instead  of  receiving 
baronetcies,  and  having  princes  at  their  shooting  parties, 
to  go  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  and  spend  all  their  profits  in 
making  the  deadly  trades  healthy  ?  Were  all  the  titled 
railway  directors  to  pull  off  their  Bath  ribbons,  and  melt 
down  the  silver  spades  with  which  they  had  cut  the  sods 
of  new  lines,  in  order  to  give  all  they  possess  to  maimed 
stokers,  or  dazed  signalmen,  or  passengers  who  had  lost 
their  legs  or  their  arms  in  accidents  ? 

Forbid  it,  heaven ! 

Society  shook  on  its  very  foundations.  Never  had 
there  been  set  precedent  fraught  with  such  disastrous  ex- 
ample. It  was  something  worse  than  socialism;  they 
could  not  give  it  a  name.  Socialism  knocked  you  down 
and  picked  your  pocket :  but  this  act  of  hers  was  a  vol- 
untary eating  of  dust.  She,  who  had  supposed  that  she 
would  be  able  to  do  what  she  choose  with  her  inheritance 
unremarked,  was  astonished  at  the  storm  of  indignation 
raised  by  the  intolerable  example  she  was  considered  to 
have  set.  American  capitalists  were  as  furious  as  English 


510  THE  MASSA&ENES. 

aristocracy  and  plutocracy,  and  the  chief  organs  of  the 
American  press  asked  her  if  she  could  seriously  suppose 
that  anybody  would  take  the  trouble  to  put  money  to- 
gether if  they  had  to  give  it  away  as  soon  as  they  got  it? 

The  publicity  and  hostility  roused  in  two  nations  by  an 
act  which  she  had  endeavored  to  make  as  private  as  pos- 
sible disconcerted  her  exceedingly,  and  the  encomiums 
she  received  from  anonymous  correspondents  were  not 
more  welcome. 

What  most  annoyed  her  were  the  political  deductions 
and  accusations  which  were  roused  by  her  action  and 
roared  around  it.  She  was  claimed  by  the  Collectivists, 
praised  by  the  Positivists,  seized  by  the  Socialists,  and 
admired  by  the  Anarchists.  She  was  supposed  to  belong 
to  every  new  creed  to  which  the  latter  years  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  has  given  birth,  and  such  creeds  are  mul- 
titudinous as  ants'  eggs  in  an  ant-hill.  A  ton  weight  of 
subversive  literature  and  another  ton  weight  of  begging 
letters  were  sent  to  her,  and  she  was  requested  to  forward 
funds  for  a  monument  to  Jesus  Ravachol  and  Harmodius- 
Caserio. 

The  Fabian  philosophers  wept  with  joy  over  her  ;  but 
the  upholders  of  property  said  that  nothing  more  pro- 
foundly immoral  than  this  dispersion  of  wealth  had  ever 
been  accomplished  since  Propriete  Nationale  was  written 
on  the  fagade  of  the  Tuileries.  Tolstoi  dedicated  a  work 
to  her ;  Cuvallotti  wrote  her  an  ode ;  Brunetiere  conse- 
crated an  article  to  her,  Mr.  Malloch  stigmatized  her  ac- 
tion as  the  most  immoral  of  the  age,  whilst  Auberon  Her- 
,bert  considered  it  the  most  admirable  instance  of  high 
spirited  individualism ;  Mr.  Gladstone  wrote  a  beautiful 
epistle  on  a  postcard,  and  Mr.  Swinburne  a  poem  in  which, 
her  charity  was  likened  to  the  sea  in  a  score  of  magnify 
cent  imageries  and  rolling  hexameters. 

She  was  overwhelmed  with  shame  at  her  position  and 
was  only  sustained  in  the  pillory  of  such  publicity  by  the 
knowledge  that  the  world  forgets  and  discards  as  rapidly 
as  it  adores  and  enthrones.  She  felt  that  she  deserved  as 
little  the  praises  of  those  who  lauded  her  generosity  as 
she  did  the  censure  of  others  who  blamed  her  for  subver- 
sive designs  and  example.  Her  strongest  motive  power 


THE  MASSARENES.  511 

had  been  the  desire  to  atone,  in  such  measure  as  possible, 
for  the  evil  her  father  had  clone,  and  to  rid  herself  of  an 
overwhelming  burden.  Deep  down  in  her  soul,  too, 
scarcely  acknowledged  to  herself,  was  the  desire  that  the 
Duchess  of  Otterbourne's  brother  should  know  that,  if  she 
could  not  understand  the  finer  gradations  of  honor  as  old 
races  can  do,  she  yet  had  nothing  of  that  mercenary 
passion  which  a  woman  of  his  own  race  showed  so  un- 
blushingly. 

She  longed,  with  more  force  than  she  had  ever  wished 
for  anything,  that  Hurstmanceaux  should  be  justified  in 
that  higher  appreciation  of  her  which  his  letter  had  ex- 
pressed. 

"  Why  should  I  care  what  that  man  thinks  ?  "  she  had 
asked  herself  as  the  steamship  glided  over  the  moonlit 
waters  of  the  Atlantic.  "I  shall  never  speak  to  him 
again  as  long  as  our  lives  last." 

But  she  did  care. 

This  result  of  her  acts  annoyed,  harassed,  and  depressed 
her,  for  she  was  afraid  that  in  trying  to  do  well  she  had 
only  done  ill.  "  But  our  path  is  so  steep  and  our  light  is 
so  dim,"  she  thought,  "  we  can  only  go  where  it  seems 
right  to  us  to  go,  and  if  we  fail  in  our  aims  we  must  not 
mind  failure  if  our  intent  was  good. 

"  l  'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success.' " 

But  her  heart  was  sometimes  heavy,  and  she  felt  the 
want  of  sympathy  and  comprehension. 

Only  one  message  soothed  and  reassured  her :  it  was  a 
telegram  from  Framlingham. 

"  Now  the  thing  is  done,  I  may  venture  to  tell  you  that 
I  both  approve  and  admire  what  I  considered  it  my  duty 
theoretically  to  oppose." 

It  was  the  only  sympathy  she  received.  From  her 
mother,  although  she  had  met  no  active  opposition,  she 
felt  that  she  had  no  forgiveness  because  she  had  no  com- 
prehension. 

"You've  done  what  you  chose,  and  I  hope  you'll  never 
regret  it.  You've  your  poor  father's  dogged  will,  and 
your  poor  father's  hard  heart,"  said  Margaret  Massarene, 


512  THE  MASSA&ENE8. 

very  unkindly,  on  the  day  that  her  daughter  landed  at 
Southampton. 

If  she  had  had  an  attack  of  diphtheria  or  had  broken 
her  arm  no  one  would  have  been  kinder  and  more  devoted 
than  her  mother ;  but,  for  the  sorrows  of  the  soul,  the 
maladies  of  the  mind,  the  nervousness  of  conscience,  her 
mother  had  no  compassion,  because  she  had  no  compre- 
hension. To  such  troubles  as  those  of  Katherine  least 
of  all;  because  to  the  practical  views  of  Margaret  Massa- 
rene  it  seemed  that  her  daughter  was  moon-struck,  noth- 
ing less ;  just  like  poor  Ophelia,  for  whom  she  had  wept 
at  the  Lyceum.  To  be  sure  Katherine  was  not  at  all 
strange  in  her  ways :  she  dressed  like  other  people, 
walked,  ate,  spoke,  and  behaved  like  other  people ;  but 
she  could  not  be  altogether  in  her  proper  mind  to  give 
away  right  and  left  all  the  fruits  of  poor  William's  many 
years  of  toil  and  of  self-denial.  The  pile  might  have  been 
got  together  by  questionable  means,  but  that  was  not  for 
William's  heiress  to  think  or  to  judge  ;  she  had  nothing 
to  do  but  to  be  grateful.  Her  mother  watched  anxiously 
for  straws  in  her  hair  and  rosemary  "  that's  for  remem- 
brance "  in  her  hand. 

Yet  she  was  almost  reconciled  to  her  daughter's  acts  by 
this  uproar  over  them. 

"  Well !  "  she  said  with  a  certain  dogged  satisfaction — 
"  well,  Kathleen,  you  meant  to  degrade  your  father,  and 
to  spite  him,  and  to  undo  all  he'd  done,  and  to  drag  his 
memory  through  the  mud  ;  but  it's  all  turned  to  his  honor 
and  glory.  "Tis  of  him  they  must  think  when  they  talk 
of  you." 

But  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  after  this  utterance, 
Katherine  was  awakened  by  the  entrance  into  her  chamber 
of  her  mother,  who  came  up  to  the  side  of  her  bed  in  silence. 

"Are  you  ill?  "said  Katherine,  starting  up  from  her 
pillow. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Massarene,  sitting  down 
heavily  on  a  low  chair  and  putting  aside  the  volumes 
which  were  upon  its  cushions.  "  No,  my  dear,  but  I 
couldn't  let  the  night  go  on  without  telling  you,  my  dear, 
as  how  you're  right  and  I'm  wrong,  and  I  beg  your  par- 
don for  my  temper,  and  the  lies  I  told  ye." 


THE  MASSARENES.  513 

"Oh,  mother,  pray  don't!"  said  her  daughter  infinitely 
distressed.  "I'm  sure  you  never  said  anything  which  you 
did  not  think  it  your  duty  to  say." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  we  dress  up  many  bad  passions  and 
vanities  as  duty,  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there,"  said 
Margaret  Massarene,  a  white,  cumbrous,  shapeless  figure 
enveloped  in  Chuddah  shawls.  "  I've  been  wrong  to  be 
out  of  temper  with  you,  and  to  deny  to  you  as  your 
father's  money  was  ill  got.  Ill  got  it  was ;  and  all  the 
princes  and  nobles  in  the  world  can't  alter  that,  though  it 
did  seem  to  me  as  how  they  did  when  I  see  'em  all 
a-kneeling  and  a-sighing  round  his  coffin.  Ill  got  it  was, 
and  may  be  you've  done  well  to  get  rid  of  it,  though  most 
folks  will  call  it  a  pack  of  stuff  to  scatter  away  millions 
as  if  ye  were  scattering  barley  to  chicks.  No ;  hear  me 
out;  I  shouldn't  hev  done  this  thing  myself,  and  I  think 
't  would  hev  been  better  to  do  it  more  gradual  like  and 
less  high  falutin,  for  it  has  set  all  the  world  gossiping  and 
grubbing  in  the  past ;  but  'tis  done,  and  I  won't  let  it  be 
a  bone  of  contention  between  you  and  me." 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,"  said  Katherine  humbly,  the 
tears  rising  to  her  eyes. 

"  There  aren't  anything  to  thank  me  for,"  said  her 
mother.  "  I'm  an  ignorant  body  and  you're  a  learned  fine 
lady — a  *  blue  stocking,'  as  people  say ;  and  your  ways  of 
looking  at  things  I  can't  follow.  I  suppose  you've  found 
'em  in  your  Greek  books.  But  when  I  told  ye  I  didn't 
know  as  your  poor  father's  pile  was  ill  got  I  told  you  a 
lie ;  for  many  and  many's  the  night  I've  been  kep'  awake 
thinkin'  o'  the  poor  souls  as  he'd  turned  out  of  house  arid 
home.  He  was  a  hard  man — smart,  as  they  say  over 
there :  and  he  bought  the  lawyers  right  and  left,  and  no- 
body ever  did  nought  to  him— till  that  man  shot  him  at 
Gloucester  Gate." 

"  Mother,"  said  Katherine  in  a  hushed  voice,  "  I  have 
learned  who  that  man  was.  Did  ever  you  know  Robert 
Airley?" 

Margaret  Massarene  reflected  a  minute  or  two. 

"  Yes,  my  dear.  I  mind  him  well :  a  long,  thin  man, 
soft-spoken  and  harmless,  with  a  pretty  young  wife  ;  they 
came  from  the  North.  Your  father  bought  his  bit  o'  land, 

33 


514  THE  MASSARENES. 

his  'placer-claim,'  as  they  say  out  there,  and  found  tin  on 
it,  and  'tis  now  in  full  work  is  that  lode — 'tis, called  the 
Penamunic  mine." 

"I  know,"  said  Katherine,  and  she  told  her  mother  how 
she  had  learned  the  request  of  Robert  Airley  and  what 
she  believed  to  have  been  his  errand  to  England. 

Her  mother  listened  without  surprise. 

"  I  mind  him  well,"  she  said  again.  "  He  must  have 
been  driven  desperate  indeed,  for  he  was  a  gentle  soul  and 
wouldn't  hev  hurt  a  fly  when  I  knew  him.  I  always 
thought,  my  dear,  as  how  your  father  would  lose  his  life 
through  some  of  those  he'd  injured ;  but  he'd  never  no  fear 
himself.  He  was  a  great  man  in  many  ways,  Katherine." 

"  As  modern  life  measures  greatness,"  said  Katherine. 

Margaret  Massarene  was  crying  noiselessly. 

"  'Tis  so  dreadful  to  think  as  he  got  his  death  through 
one  he  wronged,"  she  murmured  between  her  sobs. 

" Yes,  mother,"  said  Katherine  gravely;  "and  that  is 
why  I  told  you  all  the  money  was  blood-money  and  I  could 
not  keep  it.  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Perhaps  you  are 
right  that  I  should  have  done  this  thing  more  gradually, 
more  wisely,  more  secretly,  but  I  acted  for  the  best.  I 
felt  as  if  a  curse  were  on  me  so  long  as  I  did  nothing  in 
atonement." 

"I  won't  say  no  more  against  it,  my  dear,"  said  Mar- 
garet Massarene  with  a  heavy  sense  of  resignation.  "  But 
you  haven't  left  yourself  a  jointure  even,  and  who  will 
ever  marry  you  now  ?  " 

Katherine  smiled. 

"Do  not  let  that  vex  you.  I  will  live  with  you,  and 
you  will  give  me  twenty  pounds  a  year  for  my  clothes, 
and  it  will  be  wholesome  discipline  for  me,  and  I  shall  be 
able  to  have  a  new  gown  once  a  year,  which  ought  to  be 
quite  enough." 

"  Oh,  Katherine,  how  can  you  jest  ?  "  said  her  mother, 
with  fresh  tears ;  for,  though  the  great  world  had  laughed 
at  her,  worried  her,  tortured  her,  robbed  her,  harassed  her, 
she  had  been  pleased  and  proud  to  be  in  it,  and  now  she 
was  to  "  climb  down,"  and  be  nobody  in  particular,  and 
have  a  penniless  daughter  who  talked  of  dressing  on 
twenty  pounds  a  year  and  who  would  never  marry  ! 


THE  MASSARENES.  515 

"  We  will  be  very  happy  together,  mother,"  said  Kath- 
erine  with  a  caressing  tenderness  of  tone,  rare  in  her,  as 
she  took  her  mother's  hand,  which  was  resting  on  the 
eider-down  coverlet  of  the  bed.  "  I  may  have  done  this 
thing  too  quickly  and  not  wisely,  but  I  breathe  freely  and 
am  content." 

Margaret  Massarene  sighed. 

"My  dear,  you  won't  be  happy.  You'll  repent.  'Tis 
a  pity  you  weren't  made  like  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne. 
She  wouldn't  have  quarrelled  with  your  father's  pile." 

"  Certainly  she  would  not,"  said  Katherine  bitterly, 
"and  I  am  sorry  you  wish  me  like  her,  mother." 

Margaret  Massarene  reflected  a  moment,  drying  her 
tears. 

"  My  dear,  'twould  be  better  for  you.  People  only  call 
you  odd  and  queer.  You  see,  Kathleen,"  she  added  with 
that  shrewdness  which  early  life  had  taught  her,  "in  what 
you've  done,  you've  as  good  as  said  to  all  other  people 
that  they're  knaves :  it's  very  bad  to  be  thought  above 
one's  generation,  my  dear.  Jesus  cleared  the  Temple 
with  a  scourge  ;  but  they  paid  him  out  for  it,  my  dear — 
they  paid  him  out  for  it  on  Calvary." 

The  excitement  which  had  sustained  her  throughout 
her  arduous  and  self-imposed  task  had  subsided  and  left, 
as  all  spent  forces  do,  a  sense  of  lassitude  and  weariness 
behind  them.  A  fatigued  impression  of  failure  and  of 
loneliness  was  on  her. 

She  had  done  what  had  seemed  to  her  right  in  the  best 
way  which  had  been  open  to  her.  But  she  could  not  be 
sure  of  the  result.  She  had  used  great  volition,  great 
energy,  great  resistance  in  her  late  work,  and  her  strength 
had  for  the  time  spent  itself.  It  had  left  a  solitude  round 
her  in  which  her  personal  ego  seemed  to  awake  and  cry 
like  a  lost  child  in  the  dark. 

Her  future  wore  no  smile  and  offered  her  no  compan- 
ionship. Whilst  her  mother  lived  she  felt  that  she  must 
not  leave  her ;  and  Margaret  Massarene  was  strong  and 
hale,  and  likely  to  live  long.  Whilst  her  mother  lived 
she  could  never  herself  attempt  to  lead  any  other  existence 
than  that  which  she  led  now.  True,  in  it  she  could  study 
as  much  as  she  pleased,  but  study  in  this  moment  of  de- 


516  TEE  MASSARENES. 

pression  did  not  seem  to  her  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  life 
as  it  always  had  done. 

All  that  she  had  heard,  seen,  and  learned  of  brutal 
practical  appetites  and  needs  within  the  past  twelve  months 
haunted  her ;  she  had  cast  from  her  her  father's  wealth, 
but  she  could  not  shake  off  the  shadow  of  his  sins.  His 
memory  pursued  her  like  a  ghost. 

It  was  a  morbid  and  exaggerated  idea,  she  knew  that ; 
no  one  shunned  her,  no  one  execrated  her — at  the  utmost 
people  thought  her  an  absurd  quixotic  young  woman,  ab- 
solutely uninteresting  now  that  she  had  divested  herself 
of  her  golden  ornaments:  she  knew  that.  But  she  felt 
herself  in  spirit  and  in  destiny  like  the  hangman's  daugh- 
ter, as  Hurstmanceaux  had  said,  who,  through  no  fault  of 
her  own,  was  shunned  by  all,  and  execrated  by  all,  merely 
because  she  was  the  hangman's  daughter ! 

One  day,  soon  after  her  return,  she  was  walking  again 
through  that  pine-wood  on  the  little  estate  in  which,  nearly 
a  year  earlier,  she  had  been  greeted  by  Framlingham. 
She  had  a  reefer's  jacket  011  her  arm,  and  held  a  white 
sunshade  over  her  head,  for  the  air  was  very  mild.  Her 
gown  was  of  that  pale  silvery  grey  which  she  often  wore ; 
there  were  a  few  Malmaison  roses  and  a  ruffle  of  old  lace 
at  her  throat.  She  walked  slowly  and  with  no  energy 
suggested  in  her  movements  ;  in  truth,  she  felt  weary  and 
spiritless.  For  many  months  both  her  intelligence  and 
her  volition  had  been  stretched  like  a  bent  bow,  and  now 
that  they  were  spent  the  inevitable  reaction  set  in  with 
both  her  will  and  her  mind.  She  had  accomplished  her 
great  task ;  it  was  done  and  could  not  be  undone ;  she 
had  no  illusions  about  its  success,  she  could  only  hope 
that  it  might  bear  good  fruit. 

The  grey,  still,  windless  day  was  without  a  sound. 
Even  the  sea  was  voiceless.  The  weather  and  the  land- 
scape seemed  languid  and  mournful,  like  herself.  She 
could  not  regain  her  lost  energy.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
given  it  away  with  her  father's  fortune. 

As  regarded  her  own  future  she  had  no  illusions  either. 
She  expected  nothing  agreeable  from  it.  She  knew  that 
her  mother  had  said  quite  rightly — she  would  never  be 
happy.  Her  nature  was  proud  and  everything  connected 


THE  MASSARENES.  517 

with  her  caused  her  shame.  Her  affections  would  have 
been  strong,  but  they  had  no  object.  Her  talents  were 
unusual,  but  they  were  out  of  harmony  with  her  destiny 
and  her  generation.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been 
only  created  to  carry  on  in  her  own  soul  a  mute  and  bar- 
ren revolt  against  all  the  received  opinions  and  objects  of 
the  world  in  general.  Was  the  world  right,  and  was  she 
wrong?  Had  she  been  presumptuous  and  vain-glorious 
in  opposing  her  own  single  opinion  to  the  vast  serried 
masses  of  human  prejudice  and  custom  ? 

She  made  her  way  slowly  through  the  pine  trees  and 
the  rhododendrons  to  the  bench  where  she  had  sat  with 
Framlingham,  from  which  the  sea  was  seen  and  the  shores 
of  Tennyson's  island  were  visible.  It  was  a  fine  calm  day, 
with  diaphanous  mists  in  the  silvery  offing.  She  thought 
of  the  line  in  the  "Prometheus," and  of  Lecointe  de  Lisle's 
beautiful  rendering  of  it :  "  Le  sourire  infini  des  flots 
marins" 

Some  fishing  cobles  were  half  a  mile  off,  trawling ;  in 
the  offing  a  white-winged  vessel — a  yacht,  no  doubt — was 
bearing  toward  the  island;  inland,  some  church  bells  were 
ringing  far  away,  but  sweet  as  a  lark's  song.  She  sat  still 
and  wished  that  she  could  feel  as  poets  felt,  which  was 
perhaps  being  more  near  them  than  she  knew.  She  had 
sat  there  some  time,  the  roses  faded  in  the  light,  and  she 
was  so  motionless  that  some  wrens  in  the  pine  boughs 
over  her  head  picked  larvae  off  the  branches  without  heed- 
ing her. 

She  had  been  there  an  hour  or  more.  Argus  sometimes 
chasing  imaginary  rabbits,  sometimes  lying  at  her  feet, 
when  steps  crushing  the  carpet  of  pine  needles  behind  her 
made  her  turn  her  head. 

A  tall  man  wearing  yachting  clothes  was  coming 
through  the  shadow  of  the  trees ;  he  uncovered  his 
head  as  he  approached,  evidently  knowing  that  she  was 
there. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  vaguely,  with  some  em- 
barrassment ;  then  he  came  behind  her  and  stood  still — it 
was  Hurstmanceaux. 

She  was  so  much  surprised  that  she  said  nothing.  He 
came  round  the  trees  and  stood  in  front  of  the  bench  on 


518  THE  HASSAEENES. 

which  she  was  sitting.  The  light  shone  on  his  fair  hair 
and  the  color  rose  slightly  in  his  face. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  again.  "  I  am  an  intruder 
on  your  privacy,  but  I  have  come  here  on  purpose  to 

say  to  you "  He  hesitated,  then  continued — "  To 

say  to  you  how  much  admiration  and  esteem  I  feel  for 
your  noble  action." 

She  was  still  too  surprised  to  reply,  and  almost  too 
troubled  by  various  conflicting  and  obscure  emotions  to 
comprehend  him.  She  could  not  believe  her  own  ears, 
and  the  memory  of  that  false  report  of  which  Framling- 
ham  had  spoken  seemed  buzzing  and  stinging  about  her 
like  a  swarm  of  bees. 

"  I  do  not  suppose  you  can  care  for  my  approval,"  he 
added  as  she  remained  silent,  "  but  such  as  it  worth  you 
command  it — and  my  most  sincere  respect." 

"  Every  one  thinks  me  mad,"  she  said,  with  a  passing 
smile  as  she  strove  to  recover  her  composure. 

"Do  swine  see  the  stars  ?  "  he  said,  with  impatient  con- 
tempt. "Of  course  it  looks  madness  to  the  world.  May 
I  ask  one  thing — does  your  mother's  income  die  with 
her?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Katherine,  more  and  more  surprised,  and 
vaguely  offended  at  the  unceremonious  interrogation. 

"  Then  if  she  died  to-morrow  you  would  be  penniless  ?  " 

"What  a  very  odd  question  ! "  she  said,  recovering  her 
self-possession.  "  Certainly  I  should  be  so  ;  but  I  could 
maintain  myself." 

"What  would  you  do?  " 

"I  really  cannot  say  at  this  moment.  Play  at  concerts 
perhaps,  or  teach  Latin  or  Greek  to  children.  I  do  not 
see  that  it  can  concern  anyone  except  myself." 

His  questions,  which  seemed  to  her  rude  and  intrusive, 
had  restored  her  to  her  natural  calmness,  though  her 
heart  beat  a  little  nervously  against  the  Malmaison  roses. 
The  sun  was  in  her  eyes  and  she  did  not  look  at  him,  or 
she  would  have  understood  the  expression  in  his  own. 
He  came  nearer  to  her;  his  head  was  still  uncovered. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  forgotten  my  Greek.  Will  you 
teach  it  to  me?  " 

"I  really  cannot  understand  you,"  she  replied,  vaguely 


THE  MASSABENE8.  519 

annoyed  and  much  astonished  ;  if  he  had  been  any  other 
man,  she  would  have  thought  he  had  taken  too  much  wine 
at  luncheon. 

"I.  must  speak  more  clearly,  then,"  said  Ronald  with 
some  embarrassment.  "  Will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  jest  ?  " 

"I  should  scarcely  jest  on  such  a  subject,"  said  Hurst- 
manceaux.  "  I  mean  absolutely  what  I  say.  I  admire  , 
you  more  than  I  could  tell  you.  Your  memory  has 
haunted  me  ever  since  that  winter  walk  in  the  snow.  But 
I,  of  course,  could  have  never  told  you  so  if  your  father 
had  lived,  or  if,  he  being  dead,  you  had  kept  his  money." 

She  was  silent;  she  breathed  with  difficulty;  a  tremor 
shook  her  from  head  to  foot. 

She  was  so  utterly  amazed,  so  thunderstruck  and 
stunned,  that  the  light,  and  the  sea,  and  the  stems  of  trees, 
and  the  green  woodland  shadows,  all  went  round  her  in 
dizzy  circling  mists. 

"  Why  are  you  so  surprised  ?  You  must  have  heard 
many  men  before  now  express  the  same  wish  as  mine." 

"  Oh  !  only  for  one  reason." 

"That  reason  exists  no  longer.  In  putting  away  from 
you  your  father's  wealth,  you  at  least  acquire  the  cer- 
tainty of  being  sought  for  yourself." 

"You  speak  in  derision,  or  in  compassion." 

"  Derision  ?  Who  could  dare  deride  you  ?  Your  worst 
enemy,  if  you  have  one,  must  admire  you.  As  for  com- 
passion, if  there  be  any  in  the  desire  I  have  ventured  to 
express  to  you,  it  is  for  myself." 

She  was  still  silent.  She  was  so  violently  startled  and 
shocked  that  a  sensation  of  faintness  came  over  her  ;  her 
lips  lost  color,  her  sight  was  troubled. 

"It  is  utterly  impossible,"  she  said,  after  long  silence, 
in  a  low,  hoarse  voice.  "You  cannot  mean  it.  You  must 
be  out  of  your  mind." 

"I  always  mean  what  I  say.  And  I  cannot  see  what 
there  is  to  surprise  you  so  greatly.  True,  you  know  me 
very  little,  and  the  few  times  I  have  seen  you  I  have  been 
rude  to  you." 

"I  cannot  believe  you  !     It  is  wholly  impossible." 
It  majr  seem  so  to  you  because  our  only  previous  in- 


" 


520  THE  MASSARENES. 

terviews  have  been  stormy  and  cold,  and  my  expressed 
opinions  were  offensive,  though  you  were  generous  enough 
to  say  that  you  agreed  with  them.  But  from  those  inter- 
views I  bore  away  an  impression  against  which  I  con- 
tended in  vain.  As  long  as  you  were  the  heiress  or  holder 
of  Mr.  Massarene's  fortune,  my  lips  were  sealed.  But 
now  that  you  stand  in  voluntary  and  honorable  poverty, 
looking  forward  to  work  for  your  living  when  your 
mother  dies,  I  see  nothing  to  prevent  my  saying  to  you 
what  I  have  said." 

"  I  am  not  less  my  father's  daughter." 

"  No,  and  I  will  not  say  what  is  untrue.  I  wish  that 
you  were  the  daughter  of  any  other  man.  But  in  the 
East  I  have  seen  beautiful  lilies  growing  out  of  heaps  of 
potsherds.  You  are  the  lily  which  I  wish  to  gather. 
Your  purity  and  stately  grace  are  your  own ;  your  fine 
temper  and  you  unsullied  character  are  your  own.  Wil- 
liam Massarene  is  dead.  Let  his  sins  be  buried  with  him. 
After  all,  he  was  not  worse  than  the  great  world  which 
flattered  and  plundered  him.  You  have  done  all  you 
could  to  atone  for  his  crimes.  Do  not  let  his  ghost 
arise  to  stand  between  you  and  me.  That  is,  at  least,  if 
you  could  care  for  me.  Perhaps  it  is  impossible." 

She  breathed  heavily ;  she  felt  faint ;  her  sight  was 
obscured. 

"  You  say  this  to  me,  to  me,  to  the  daughter  of  William 
Massarene  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  lie  to  you  ;  I  wish  to  Heaven  you  were  the 
daughter  of  any  other  man.  But  his  vileness  cannot 
affect  your  honor.  You  know  me  very  slightly,  and  I  in- 
sulted you  when  we  did  meet.  But  there  are  sympathies 
which  overstep  time  and  efface  all  injuries.  As  long  as 
you  held  your  father's  fortune  I  could  say  nothing  to 
you ;  but  now  there  is  no  barrier  between  us  unless  it 
exist  in  your  own  will." 

"But  there  is  your  sister  !  " 

His  face  darkened. 

"  If  you  mean  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  I  have  no 
acquaintance  with  her." 

44  But  all  your  family?" 

"  I  have  long  borne  all  the  burdens  of  my  family ;  I  am 


THE  MASSARENES.  521 

not  disposed  to  consult  them  on  a  matter  which  concerns 
myself  alone.  My  wife  will  be  respected  by  all  of  them. 
Do  not  fear  otherwise.  And,"  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
"  we  will  not  sell  our  game  to  Leadenhall  or  send  our 
Shetland  ponies  to  the  mines." 

The  allusion  to  their  walk  through  the  snowy  lanes 
made  the  absolute  reality  of  what  he  was  saying  break  in 
on  her  like  a  burst  of  light,  light  bewildering  and  unbear- 
able. 

"  You  must  be  out  of  your  mind,"  she  said,  in  a  broken 
voice,  "  or  you  are  playing  a  cruel  comedy." 

"  I  am  not  a  comedian.  And  why  should  you  suppose 
it  unlikely  for  a  man  to  love  you  and  respect  you  ?  " 

"  But  you  ! — I  am  his  daughter.  You  said  once — it  was 
like  being  the  hangman's  daughter.  I  am  low  born,  low 
bred  ;  I  am  utterly  unworthy  in  my  own  sight." 

She  was  painfully  agitated.  She  could  not  control  her 
emotion.  Her  heart  beat  tumultuously,  her  lips  were 
white  and  trembled. 

"  Madam,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  very  gravely  and  with 
extreme  grace,  "  you  are  the  woman  that  I  love.  If  you 
accept  what  I  offer,  I  swear  to  you  that  my  family  and  the 
world  will  receive  and  reverence  my  wife.  I  can  say  no 
more.  My  future  is  in  your  hands." 

It  was  impossible  for  her  to  doubt  his  sincerity ;  she  was 
silent,  overcome  by  emotion.  She  did  not  look  at  him  as 
she  answered. 

"I  am  deeply  touched,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "I 
am  honored 

He  gave  an  impatient  movement. 

"  Yes — honored,"  she  repeated,  and  her  lips  quivered. 

She  paused  a  moment  to  steady  her  voice. 

"  I  appreciate  your  generosity  arid  your  confidence,"  she 
added.  "  But  I  cannot  wrong  either.  I  cannot  do  what 
you  say." 

"Why?" 

"  Why  ?  For  innumerable  reasons,  for  reasons  as  count- 
less as  those  sands." 

"  One  will  do !     Do  you  dislike  me  ?     Do  you  resent  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No.     Oh,  no  I  " 


522  THE  MASSARENES. 

"Do  you  think  you  would  not  be  happy  with  me  ?" 

"  I  am  certain  that  you  would  be  miserable,  and  I  so  too 
to  know  that  I  had  caused  your  misery." 

"  Allow  me  to  judge  for  myself.  There  could  be  no 
question  of  misery  for  either." 

She  made  the  same  gesture  of  protest  and  dissent. 

"  What  fantastic  folly  comes  between  us !  "  he  said 
angrily,  for  he  was  not  a  patient  man.  "  You  must  surely 
allow  me  to  know  rny  own  mind." 

"  No  doubt  you  think  you  know  it.  I  am  sure  you  are 
wholly  sincere.  I  tell  you — you  honor  me.  But  the 
future  you  wish  for  would  make  you  wretched.  You 
think  you  would  forget  my  origin,  but  you  could  not  do 
so.  You  would  reproach  yourself  for  having  brought  base 
blood  into  your  race ;  you  are  prouder  than  you  know — 
justly  proud,  I  think.  You  would  be  too  kind  to  show  it, 
but  you  would  regret  every  hour  of  your  life.  And  I — I 
could  riot  live  to  see  that  and  know  myself  the  cause." 

"  You  must  think  me  a  poor,  weak,  flickering  fool !  " 

"Not  at  all.  But  you  are  speaking  on  impulse,  and  in 
cold  blood  you  would  lament  your  impulse," 

"  I  am  not  speaking  on  impulse.  I  come  here  in  de- 
liberate choice  after  long  reflection." 

"  And  can  you  say  that  when  you  thus  reflected  you  did 
not  feel  that  marriage  with  me  would  sully  your  race  ?  " 

He  was  silent.     He  could  not  and  would  not  lie  to  her. 

"  You  are  nobility  and  purity  yourself,"  he  answered, 
after  that  silence.  "  You  are  not  responsible  for  the  sins 
of  your  father." 

She  smiled  a  little,  very  sadly. 

"Nevertheless,!  am  the  hangman's  daughter;  and  a 
Courcy  of  Faldon  must  not  wed  with  me.  Go !  God  be 
with  you.  I  thank  you  for  the  trust  you  have  shown  in 
me,  and  I  do  not  abuse  it." 

"  That  is  your  last  word  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  so." 

He  grew  very  white,  and  his  eyes  darkened  with  anger; 
he  was  annoyed  and  indignant;  an  immense  offence  was 
his  first  and  dominant  feeling.  He  was  misunderstood, 
doubted,  rejected,  when  he  had  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart 
brought  and  laid  at  her  feet  the  greatest  gift  he  could 


TRE  MASSARENES.  .  523 

offer.  He  did  not  stoop  to  plead  with  an  ingrate.  He 
bowed  low  to  her,  and  in  perfect  silence  turned  away. 
The  sound  of  his  steps  on  the  fallen  fir-needles  made  a 
faint  crackling  noise  on  the  still  air. 

She  stood  looking  seaward,  but  of  sea  and  of  sky  seeing 
nothing. 

Her  dog  whined  wistfully  in  sympathy,  knowing  that 
her  motionless  serenity  was  sorrow. 


524  THE  MASSAltENES. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

ABOUT*  two  weeks  from  the  time  of  the  unwelcome  visit 
to  her  of  Prince  Khris,  the  Duchess  of  Otterbourne,  de- 
scending the  terrace  steps  of  her  hotel,  met,  as  he  as- 
cended them,  young  Woffram  of  Karstein. 

"How  dull  you  look!"  she  said  to  him.  "What  on 
earth  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  going  to  enliven  us  with  a 
sensational  suicide  ?  " 

The  young  man  smiled,  but  with  no  mirth  in  his  smile. 

44  Something  horrible  has  happened,  though  not  a  sui- 
cide," he  answered  sadly.  "  My  poor  granduncle  Khris, 
the  one  who  came  to  you  the  other  day,  has  fallen  down 
in  a  fit  at  the  rouge-et-noir  table  yonder." 

With  a  gesture  toward  the  east  he  indicated  Monte 
Carlo,  which  lay  in  the  distant  curves  of  the  coast. 

44  Is  he  dead  ?  "  she  said  eagerly. 

44  No.  But  he  is  dying.  Hugo  von  Born  told  me.  He 
has  just  come  from  there.  He  saw  it." 

44  You  seem  singularly  afflicted ! "  said  Mouse  with  a 
little  laugh  to  conceal  the  impression  which  the  news 
made  on  herself. 

44  Well,"  said  Prince  Woffram  with  embarrassment, 
44  the  death  of  a  good  man,  you  know,  isn't  half  so  shock- 
ing as  the  death  of  a  bad  one." 

44 Indeed?"  said  Mouse.  44I  should  have  thought  just 
the  contrary.  But  then  I  don't  see  things  by  the  light  of 
the  Lutheran  religion  !  Where  did  Prince  Khris  live  ? 
Who  had  he  with  him  ?  Who  will  look  after  him  ?  " 

44 1  fear  he  is  past  looking  after.  Where  his  lodgings 
were  I  don't  know;  they  were  something  very  poor,  for 
all  his  money  went  at  the  tables.  I  think — don't  you 
think? — I  ought  to  go  and  see  if  I  can  do  anything  for 
him  ?  " 

"  But  your  people  don't  know  him,  you  say  ?  " 

44  No ;  but  when  an  old  man  is  dying  things  seem  differ- 
ent. I  think  I  ought  to  go." 


THE  MASSARENES.  525 

"Telegraph  for  your  father's  permission,"  said  Mouse, 
leaning  against  the  balustrade  and  playing  with  her  long 
gold  muff  chain.  She  was  thinking  of  many  things  :  she 
was  certain  in  her  own  mind  that  the  man  now  stricken 
down  at  Monte  Carlo  could  tell  much  about  his  daughter's 
divorce,  if  he  could  not,  which  she  thought  possible,  tell 
that  which  would  reunite  his  daughter  and  Vanderlin.  It 
would  never  do  to  let  his  grandnephew,  who  was  simplic- 
ity and  veracity  incarnate,  get  to  the  bedside  and  hear 
what  might  be  the  deathbed  confessions.  She  wished  to 
do  that  herself,  for  knowledge  is  always  power. 

The  complete  security  with  which  Khris  of  Karstein  had 
told  her  that  he  would  prevent  her  schemes  as  to  Vander- 
lin ever  bearing  fruition,  must  certainly  point  to  one  thing 
only,  that  he  had  the  means  to  clear  the  character  of  his 
daughter  to  her  divorced  husband. 

She  hastily  reasoned  that,  however  odd  it  might  look  to 
others,  she  must  see  the  old  man  before  he  died.  After 
all,  her  visit  to  him  could  be  put  upon  charity ;  poor 
Charity  has  borne  many  heavier  and  uglier  burdens  than 
the  rosy  children  with  which  Correggio  loaded  her. 

She  felt  moreover  that  she  would  like  to  see  him,  lying 
speechless,  paralyzed,  impatient ;  he  had  been  so  odiously 
rude ! 

Still  playing  with  the  long  gold  chain,  she  turned  her 
eyes  on  young  Woffram,  dazzling  him  with  their  azure 
light. 

"I  feel  like  a  brute  to  do  nothing  for  him,"  said  the 
good-natured  young  cuirassier.  "As  to  telegraphing  to 
my  father  it  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  money ;  he  would 
never  bear  his  uncle  Khristof's  name  mentioned." 

"Then  I  think  you  would  do  very  foolishly  to  go  near 
the  old  man,"  said  his  friend.  "It  would  embroil  you 
with  your  people,  and  go  against  you  at  Berlin.  I  told 
you  the  other  day  that  I  am  not  afraid  of  compromising 
myself  by  being  kind  to  people  who  are  under  a  cloud. 
I  will  go  and  see  after  Prince  Khris  if  you  like ;  I  was 
going  to  Monte  Carlo  to-morrow — I  will  go  to-day  instead. 
There  is  a  train  in  an  hour.  I  will  telegraph  you  word 
how  he  is." 

The  young  man  stared  at  her. 


523  THE  MASSARENES. 

It  seemed  very  angelic,  but  lie  was  not  accustomed  to 
see  her  in  such  an  angelic  light,  though  he  adored  her. 
Simple  and  unsuspecting  though  he  was  he  could  not  help 
seeing  that  there  must  be  some  interest  in  this  offered 
charity  beyond  the  benevolence  visible  on  the  surface. 

"  It  would  be  wonderfully  good  of  you,"  he  said  with 
hesitation.  "  But  would  it  not  look  rather  odd?  " 

"  I  never  care  what  a  thing  looks,"  she  replied  with  im- 
patience, "and  really,  my  dear  Wuffie,  I  don't  believe 
even  an  international  jury  of  British  and  German  matrons 
would  put  a  scandalous  interpretation  on  a  visit  to  a  dying 
man  of  seventy-eight  }^ears  of  age  !  " 

"  He's  only  sixty-eight,"  murmured  his  grandnephew. 
"But  of  course,  if  you  don't  mind,  it  would  be  exceed- 
ingly kind  of  you,  and — and— 

"  Where  is  Prince  Khris  living — do  you  know  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Oh,  I  can  soon  find  out  when  I  get  there.  He  won't 
be  far  from  the  Casino." 

The  young  soldier  was  surprised.  He  had  not  thought 
charity  abode  within  the  white  bosom  of  his  enchanting 
friend.  He  could  not  easily  imagine  her  sitting  by  a  dis- 
carded and  despised  old  sinner's  deathbed.  He  had  seen 
her  in  many  characters  but  never  in  that  of  the  minister- 
ing angel  when  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow. 

"  What  on  earth  is  she  up  to?  "  he  thought,  and  said  a 
little  awkwardly : 

"  He  didn't  win  much,  I  think ;  he'd  just  got  on  a  run 
of  the  rouge  when  he  dropped— 

"  My  dear  Wuffie,  I'm  not  going  to  steal  his  winnings ! " 
said  Mouse  with  her  pretty  crystal  clear  laugh.  "  I've 
known  him  a  long  time,  poor  old  man,  and  it's  only  human 
to  go  and  look  after  him.  People  at,  Monte  Carlo  are  wild 
beasts,  and  they  didn't  look  off  the  tables  I  dare  say,  when 
he  fell,  and  I  am  sure  none  of  them  will  go  near  him.  I 
shall  take  the  two  o'clock  train ;  you  can  come  over  on 
Sunday  as  we  agreed." 

Prince  Woffram  meekly  acquiesced.  He  felt  that  there 
was  something  which  he  did  not  understand  in  the  air; 
although  not  very  quick  of  perception,  and  although  very 
much  enamored,  he  vaguely  suspected  that  his  unknown 


THE  MASSARENES.  527 

greatuncle  must  possess  letters  or  papers  or  knowledge 
which  might  compromise  this  ministering  angel  if  she  did 
not  get  to  the  bedside  before  somebody  else.  He  adored 
her,  but  he  had  no  illusions  about  her,  the  few  he  had  ever 
had,  like  roses  rudely  shaken,  had  fallen  before  the  merci- 
less revelations  of  his  friend  Boo. 

Boo  and  her  governess  accompanied  her  that  day  on  her 
mission  of  mercy.  She  knew  too  well  the  value  as  social 
shield  of  her  little  daughter's  presence.  She  was  genuinely 
fond  of  the  child  ;  but  if  she  had  not  been  fond  of  her,  she 
would  nevertheless  have  appreciated  and  utilized  the  safety 
which  lies  in  such  an  accompaniment.  As  for  the  govern- 
ess, she  was  discretion  itself,  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing, 
that  she  was  not  to  see  and  hear,  and  was  easily  purchased 
for  all  eternity  by  a  bracelet  at  Christmas  or  a  ring  at 
Easter. 

As  the  train  ran  through  the  beautiful  coast  scenery,  so 
familiar  to  her  that  she  had  ceased  even  to  look  at  it,  she 
had  such  a  vague  titillation  of  curiosity  and  excitement  as 
a  young  panther  may  feel  who  for  the  first  time  smells  a 
human  footprint  on  the  grass.  She  liked  intrigue  and 
comedy  for  their  own  sakes ;  even  if  they  had  no  conse- 
quences they  passed  the  time  amusingly  and  lent  a  sense 
of  ability  and  power.  The  combinations  of  life  are  like 
those  of  whist  or  chess — they  exercise  the  intelligence, 
they  flatter  the  consciousness  of  skill. 

She  was  more  convinced  than  ever  that  Prince  Khris 
had  the  power  to  reunite  his  daughter  and  her  divorced 
husband.  The  idea  of  a  femme  taree  reigning  over  the 
beautiful  Les  Mouettes  was  odious  to  her  and  ridiculous. 
She  had  a  most  profound  contempt  for  women  who  were 
compromised.  She  felt  for  them  what  the  head  of  the 
herd  is  said  to  feel  for  the  lamed  and  stricken  deer.  She 
had  indeed  no  patience  with  them,  for  it  was  they,  the 
silly  demonstrative  creatures,  who  set  society's  back  up 
and  made  things  uncomfortable  for  wiser  persons.  A 
woman  like  Olga  zu  Lynar  who  had  married  into  all  this 
money  and  had  not  known  how  to  keep  it  seemed  to  her 
perfectly  idiotic.  She  felt  that  if  she  herself  had  acquired 
all  these  millions  her  own  conduct  would  have  been  per- 
fectly exemplary ;  at  all  events  wholly  unattackable. 


528  THE  MASSARENES. 

But  she  desired  intensely  to  know  the  truth  about  this 
unworthy  divorcee,  since  until  she  did  know  it  she  could 
not  make  her  own  plans  with  any  chance  of  success.  As 
the  train  swung  on  through  the  tunnels  her  pity  for  her- 
self was  extreme ;  it  was  cruelly  hard  that  she  should 
always  be  driven  to  do  all  kinds  of  unpleasant  and  dubious 
things  because  other  people  were  so  inconsiderate  and  an- 
noying. 

Why  could  not  old  Khris  have  had  his  fit  before  coming 
to  interfere  about  Vanderlin  ?  She  could  not  really  be 
sure  that  he  had  not  already  seen  Vanderlin ;  the  latter 
had  been  impenetrable,  and  clearly  on  his  guard  that  day 
of  the  breakfast  at  Les  Mouettes.  She  felt  that  she  was 
playing  a  dangerous  game  in  the  dark — playing  lawn -ten- 
nis blindfolded.  But  it  therefore  interested  her  the  more. 

It  was  the  merest  chance  that  she  would  gain  anything 
by  visiting  the  old  man  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  she  would 
not  lose  anything,  and  she  would  look  amiable ;  it  seemed 
to  her  also  clever  to  have  remembered  the  few  words  about 
him  which  had  been  spoken  by  the  Archduke.  It  is  just 
such  a  propos  remembrance,  such  connection  of  trifles, 
which  make  clever  detectives  and  successful  spies.  As  the 
train  ran  on  she  apparently  listened  to  the  chatter  of  Boo 
over  a  big  sack  of  bonbons  and  a  big  bouquet  of  lilies  of 
the  valley,  but  in  herself  she  was  thinking  that  her  in- 
genuity and  intelligence  had  merited  a  better  fate  than 
that  of  having  to  worry  about  hotel  bills  and  scheme  to 
marry  a  banker.  She  did  not  like  the  idea  of  marrying 
Vanderlin,  she  did  not  think  he  would  be  facile,  though  he 
had  the  reputation  of  being  generous ;  she  did  not  think 
that  he  would  be  likely  to  let  her  make  ducks  and  drakes 
of  European  finance  as  it  would  have  diverted  her  to  do 
in  his  place ;  he  looked  grave,  he  was  serious  and  sad,  and 
he  bored  her.  Besides,  she  would  have  preferred  to  marry 
no  one.  But  there  was  nothing  else  that  she  could  do,  or 
at  least  nothing  else  which  promised  so  well,  which  offered 
so  much  solidity  and  comfort  for  the  future.  Therefore 
she  went  on  through  the  olive-woods  and  by  the  edge  of 
the  blue  sea  to  Monte  Carlo. 

When  Boo  and  the  bouquets  and  bonbons  were  left  in 
safety  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris,  she  caused  herself  to  be 


TffE  MAS8AEENE8.  529 

dressed  in  the  simplest  black  gown  she  possessed,  put  a 
grey  golfing  cloak  over  that,  and  with  a  felt  hat  and  a 
thick  veil  went  out  all  alone  ;  hoping  to  pass  unperceived 
in  this  place  which  was  filled  with  hundreds  of  men  and 
women  of  her  world,  and  hundreds  also  of  worlds  of 
which  hers  knew  nothing. 

She  had  learned  that  Prince  Khris  was  to  be  found  in  a 
house  out  of  the  town,  where  he  had  a  modest  chamber, 
whither  he  had  been  carried  speechless  and  apparently 
unconscious  on  the  previous  night,  when  he  had  dropped, 
huddled  and  bent  like  a  collapsed  marionette,  amidst  a 
crowd  of  gamblers  who  scarcely  turned  their  heads  to  see 
what  had  happened. 

It  was  a  small  poor  chamber  over  a  grocer's  shop  in  the 
outskirts,  in  which  there  lay  dying  the  man  who  had  seen 
sentinels  present  arms  when  he  had  passed  as  a  young 
child  in  his  donkey  chaise,  with  a  lady  of  his  father's 
Court  in  charge  of  him,  across  the  Platz  of  the  small 
ducal  city. 

She  felt  a  sense  of  pain  as  she  ascended  the  narrow  un- 
carpeted  stair  in  the  close  unpleasant  atmosphere. 

"  Has  he  not  even  a  valet?  "  she  said  to  the  old  woman 
who  left  the  shop  to  show  her  the  way  upstairs. 

"  No,  madame,"  answered  the  woman.  "  We  look  after 
the  poor  old  gentleman  as  well  as  we  can ;  there  is 
only  me  and  my  sister ;  and  one  of  us  must  attend  to  tha 
business." 

Mouse  shivered  a  little  as  she  heard  ;  it  was  a  realiza- 
tion of  indigence  by  which  she  had  never  been  before 
confronted.  Want  of  money  she  had  known,  and  debt 
and  great  anxiety ;  but  she  had  never  been  without  serv- 
ants, up  a  rickety  stair,  above  a  smelly  little  shop.  It 
shocked  her  to  see  a  man  of  this  rank,  of  her  own  world, 
thus  utterly  abandoned  like  any  beggar  who  had  fallen  by 
the  roadside. 

The  frightful  callousness  of  human  nature  when  it  is 
not  softened  by  deference  to  wealth  and  self-interest 
struck  her  with  its  chill  brutality  like  a  handful  of  ice 
flung  in  her  face.  She  was  no  kinder  herself;  still  the 
realization  of  the  rough  and  jeering  egotism  of  the  world 
momentarily  hurt  her.  She  thought  of  Buckingham  dy- 

34 


530  THE  MASSAEENES. 

ing  alone  in  the  garret.  There  was  the  solidarity  of  class 
between  her  and  the  fallen  prince  ;  and  there  was  also  the 
possibility  that  she  herself  might  some  day,  in  some  far 
away  old  age,  be  no  better  off  than  he. 

The  woman  opened  a  low  door  as  she  spoke,  and 
Mouse  saw  into  the  room — a  poor  place  with  grey  walls, 
a  brick  floor,  spare  furniture,  and  a  narrow  bed,  whereon 
lay  what  was  left  of  the  once  courtly  and  elegant  person 
of  Prince  Khristof  of  Karstein.  There  was  one  window 
through  which  the  slope  of  an  olive-covered  hill  was  visi- 
ble. 

He  was  conscious,  though  motionless  and  speechless ; 
he  opened  his  eyes  at  the  unclosing  of  the  door,  but  he 
did  not  recognize  his  visitor  through  her  thick  veil.  His 
features  were  twisted  and  drawn,  his  hands  lay  supinely 
on  the  rough  woollen  coverlet ;  he  looked  almost  already 
a  corpse :  there  was  only  life  in  the  steel-blue,  watching, 
apprehensive  eyes,  into  which  at  her  appearance  there 
came  a  gleam  of  wonder,  perhaps  of  hope. 

"It  is  very  horrible!  "  she  said,  with  a  thrill  of  genuine 
distress. 

"  Are  you  a  relation,  maclame  ?  "  said  the  woman  of  the 
house. 

"  Only  a  friend.  Does  the  doctor  come  often  ?  What 
does  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  comes  but  little,"  replied  the  woman.  "  He  knows 
he  will  never  be  paid,  and  he  knows  nothing  will  be  of 
any  use." 

"  Is  it  quite  hopeless  ?  " 

"  It  is  only  a  question  of  hours." 

"Why  did  you  not  send  for  a  sceur  ?  v 

"We  did,  but  they  are  all  out.  Will  you  be  at  the 
charge  of  the  burial,  madame  ?  " 

"  Send  for  another,"  said  Mouse  ;  "  there  are  scores  of 
them." 

"  Will  madame  guarantee  all  expenses  ?  "  asked  the 
woman. 

Mouse  hesitated ;  she  did  not  wish  to  have  her  visit 
there  known  or  her  name  given. 

"I  am  sure  the  family  of  the  prince  will  repay  every- 
thing," she  answered.  "  They  are  great  people," 


THE  MASSAEENES.  531 

The  woman  smiled  dubiously.  "  Is  lie  really  a  prince, 
madame?  They  are  all  princes  here,  but  they  pawn  then 
shirts  all  the  same." 

"He  is  really  a  prince — a  serene  highness  ;  he  is  allied 
by  blood  to  one  imperial  house  and  two  royal  houses." 

The  woman  looked  dubious  still ;  a  napoleon  would 
have  better  eased  her  doubts. 

"  That  is  nothing,  madame,"  she  said  with  contempt ; 
"  those  people  pay  less  willingly  than  anybody." 

During  this  colloquy  the  eyes  of  Prince  Khris  watched 
intently  ;  his  brain  was  not  clear,  and  his  ears  seemed 
stuffed  up  and  filled  with  buzzing  noises,  but  he  under- 
stood that  they  were  talking  of  him.  She  had  put  back 
her  veil  and  he  had  recognized  her.  Why  was  the  blonde 
devil  there  ?  Why  was  not  Olga  there  instead  ?  He  had 
forgotten  time,  he  had  only  a  confused  notion  of 
things ;  he  had  recognized  the  blonde  devil  and  he  was 
afraid  she  should  get  at  his  papers,  but  all  the  rest  was 
mist  and  confusion.  His  memory  of  his  daughter  was  of 
her  as  a  little  child — a  little  child  in  a  white  frock,  with  a 
pearl  necklace  and  great  brown  eyes  and  a  cloud  of  dark 
soft  hair.  When  she  had  been  a  little  child  he  had  never 
done  her  any  harm. 

The  old  dame  retired,  well  pleased  to  see  a  lady  take 
her  place,  and  she,  left  alone,  came  up  to  the  bedside  forc- 
ing herself  to  conquer  her  natural  aversion  to  painful  and 
unlovely  scenes :  she  was  vaguely  afraid  of  that  mute, 
paralyzed  figure.  She  dreaded  intensely  lest  the  doctor 
should  arrive  before  she  should  have  been  able  to  do  what 
she  desired  ;  but  for  that  reason  she  deemed  it  prudent  to 
seem  anxious  for  his  presence.  No  one  bent  on  a  dubious 
errand  would  ever  endeavor  to  hasten  a  doctor's  arrival. 
The  motionless  figure  on  the  bed  looked  entirely  unlike 
the  man  whom  she  had  known  as  Khris  Kar :  entirely  un- 
like except  for  those  steel-blue  eyes  which  were  staring  at 
her  without  recognition,  but  with  challenge  and  inquiry, 
for  his  brain  was  still  conscious.  That  gaze  frightened 
her.  After  all,  what  business  had  she  to  be  there  ?  She 
was  momentarily  unnerved ;  but  she  had  courage  and 
audacity,  and  she  controlled  her  nerves  and  looked  away 


532  THE  HASSAEENES. 

not  to  see  those  searching  eyes  in  the  lean,  waxen,  dis- 
torted face. 

She  went  to  the  window  and  closed  the  wooden  blinds, 
for  the  setting  sun  was  strong  though  winter  was  scarce 
past.  Then  she  took  off  her  hat  and  veil,  and  moved 
about  the  small  chamber  putting  it  in  order  as  she  had 
seen  nurses  do  in  sick-rooms,  and  filling  a  glass  with  fresh 
water  from  a  pitcher  which  stood  on  the  floor.  The  place 
was  horrible  to  her ;  its  air  was  close,  its  scent  bad,  its 
floor  was  not  clean,  the  chairs  were  rush-bottomed,  the 
table  was  deal ;  but  there  was  one  thing  which  belonged 
to  a  different  sphere,  one  thing  which  attracted  her  and 
seemed  to  suggest  that  her  errand  might  not  be  fruitless 
— it  was  a  despatch-box  of  Russian  leather,  with  initials 
and  the  crown  of  a  serene  highness  in  gold  or  silver  gilt 
above  its  lock.  If  there  were  any  papers  of  consequence 
in  the  room,  that  box,  much  battered  by  frequent  travel, 
contained  them.  Moreover,  when  she  approached  and 
dusted  it,  she  saw  the  eyes  of  the  man  on  the  bed  dilate 
with  menace.  She  left  it  at  once  and  cut  a  lemon  into 
the  glass  of  water  and  went  to  the  bedside  with  the 
drink.  The  shaded  light  fell  across  the  bed.  She  saw 
the  eyes  of  the  paralytic  stare  upward  at  her.  Then  into 
them  came  a  ray  of  comprehension — a  flash  of  hate. 

"It  is  the  blonde  devil,"  thought  the  still  conscious 
brain,  which  had  lost  all  power  to  communicate  its 
thoughts  to  the  lips  and  tongue. 

"Dear  Prince,  do  you  know  me?"  said  his  visitor  very 
softly.  "  I  am  so  sorry  to  find  you  here,  and  so  ill.  I 
should  like  to  be  of  some  use." 

The  kind,  soft  words  found  their  way  to  the  dulled, 
imprisoned  brain  ;  she  saw  that  by  the  expression  of  the 
eyes ;  for  the  eyes  in  answer  said  to  her :  "  I  am  half 
dead — I  am  almost  wholly  dead  ;  but  I  am  not  so  utterly 
dead  yet  that  I  can  be  fooled  by  you.  Blonde  devil, 
what  is  it  that  you  come  here  to  seek  ?  " 

She  observed  that  his  ej^es,  leaving  her  face,  turned 
anxiously  in  the  direction  where  the  despatch-box  was ; 
she  saw  also  that  round  his  throat  was  a  steel  chain  with 
a  small  gold  key.  In  that  box  was  there  any  message  for 
bis  daughter,  or  for  Vauderlin,  or  any  proof  that  he  had 


THE  MASSARENES.  533 

brought  about  their  separation?  It  was  evident  that  he 
was  afraid  the  box  should  be  touched.  This  interested 
her.  She  was  pleased  that  her  instinct  had  led  her  right. 
She  did  not  dare  to  act  in  any  way ;  he  might  not  be  en- 
tirely paralyzed  as  the  people  said;  he  might  not  be  so 
absolutely  sure  to  die,  or  to  remain  speechless  until  his 
death;  she  knew  nothing  about  his  malady,  except  that 
he  had  dropped  down  suddenly  when  punting  at  Monte 
Carlo. 

She  felt  that  he  suspected  her,  that  he  would,  if  he  had 
use  of  his  voice,  have  ordered  her  out  of  the  room  ;  she 
read  all  that  in  his  regard.  Prudence  necessitated  the 
continuance  of  the  very  tiresome  role  of  ministering 
angel.  She  dared  do  nothing  until  the  doctor  should 
have  confirmed  the  hopelessness  of  his  state.  She  was 
excrutiatingly  bored,  and  somewhat  frightened.  The 
horrible  spectre  on  the  bed  looked  like  a  ghoul  so  lean,  so 
colorless,  so  distorted,  so  motionless.  She  had  nothing  to 
do,  she  felt  a  palpitating  terror  lest  he  should  recover  the 
power  of  speech ;  she  believed  that  people  struck  down 
by  hemiplegia  did  so  recover  it  sometimes.  She  held  a 
spoonful  of  lemonade  to  his  shut  lips;  but  he  did  not 
open  them,  he  only  glared  at  her.  The  spoon  was  of  a 
common  white  metal,  ugly,  yellow,  discolored ;  she  hated 
to  touch  it. 

At  that  moment  a  heavy  step  was  heard  on  the  stair 
and  a  broad,  bearded,  rough-looking  man  entered  with  his 
hat  on  his  head ;  it  was  the  doctor. 

"Sapristi!"  he  shouted  very  angrily;  "  what  do  you 
send  for  again  and  again  and  again.  The  man  is  as 
good  as  dead.  All  the  science  in  the  world  could  not 
save  him.  You  waste  my  time.  You " 

Catching  sight  then  of  a  lady  in  the  room  he  pulled  off 
his  hat  and  muttered  his  excuses :  he  was  very  busy,  he 
had  many  sick  people,  people  who  were  curable,  the  man 
on  the  bed  could  not  recover. 

"  Oh,  pray  do  not  say  so !  "  said  Mouse  with  much  ap- 
parent feeling.  "  Do  they  not  recover  sometimes  ?  I 
think  I  have  heard — — " 

"  A  man  of  that  age  cannot  recover,"  said  the  doctor 
impatiently.  "  He  is  practically  dead  already.  He  will 


534  THE  NASSARENE8. 

not  live  through  the  night,  if  you  can  call  him  still  living. 
You  are  a  relation  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  have  known  him  in  other  years,  when  he 
was  less — less  fortunate  ;  and  I  know  all  his  people." 

"  The  lady  says  they  are  royal,"  murmured  the  woman 
of  the  house. 

"  Royal ! "  echoed  the  doctor  with  scorn.  "  If  they 
were  the  consul  would  be  after  him  like  a  dog  after  a 
bone." 

The  consul !  Mouse  remembered  with  a  shock  that  such 
a  person  might  indeed  arrive  at  any  moment.  She  had 
not  thought  of  this  possibility. 

The  doctor  had  gone  up  to  the  bed,  turned  down  the 
bedclothes,  placed  his  stethoscope  over  the  heart,  and 
listened. 

"  He  will  die  in  three  or  four  hours,"  he  said,  as  he 
turned  again  from  the  bed.  "The  heart  is  exhausted;  it 
has  lost  almost  all  power  of  propulsion.  Let  me  hear 
when  all  is  over.  Madame,  your  servant." 

He  hurried  out  of  the  room,  clapping  his  hat  on  his 
head  and  noisily  clattering  down  the  stairs. 

"  You  may  go,"  said  Mouse  to  the  woman  of  the  house. 
"  I  will  stay  a  few  hours  here.  Meantime  try  and  get  a 
Sceur  de  Char  it  e" 

"  Who  will  pay  for  all  this  expense,  madame  ?  "  said  the 
woman.  "  Who  will  pay  for  the  burial  and  all  the  rest?  " 

"  You  must  send  to  the  German  consul — he  will  tell  you," 
said  Mouse.  "  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it  before.  I 
cannot  stay  here  much  longer,  but  I  will  stay  till  someone 
in  authority  comes.  Go  ;  send  at  once  to  the  consulate." 

"  You  talk  very  glibly  of  sending  here  and  there  and 
everywhere,"  said  the  woman  rather  rudely. 

Mouse  put  ten  francs  into  the  woman's  hand,  wishing 
to  make  a  friend  of  her.  "  And  send  for  the  consul  at 
once  that  I  may  speak  to  him,"  she  added,  for  she  always 
remembered  appearances. 

It  was  growing  dark.  By  her  watch  it  was  a  quarter 
to  six.  All  light  had  faded  off  the  olive-clad  slope  in 
front  of  the  window.  She  had  had  no  afternoon  tea.  She 
began  to  want  her  dinner,  and,  after  all,  she  might  be 
boring  herself  to  no  purpose,  on  a.  mere  fool's  errand* 


THE  MASSARENES.  535 

The  woman  came  in  with  a  petroleum  lamp  smelling 
atrociously. 

"  Send  for  a  nun,"  said  Mouse,  who  only  desired  to  get 
rid  of  her.  "Send  for  another  doctor.  The  Prince  can- 
not lie  like  this." 

"  Very  well,  madame,"  said  the  woman.  "  But  errands 
cost  money.  People  won't  run  messages  for  nothing." 

Mouse  gave  her  some  more  silver  and  bade  her  find  a 
messenger.  She  was  anxious  to  be  rid  of  her,  for  in  her 
presence  it  was  impossible  to  open  the  box.  She  was  re- 
solved to  open  it.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  do,  but 
she  had  an  intuitive  sense  that  it  was  worth  doing. 

She  was  glad  that  neither  the  woman  nor  the  doctor  had 
asked  her  who  she  was.  She  summoned  all  her  fortitude 
to  her  assistance  and  approached  the  bed. 

She  saw  that  he  was,  as  the  doctor  said,  very  nearly 
lifeless.  His  breathing  was  labored  and  painful,  his  heart 
scarcely  beat  any  longer.  His  eyes  were  closed.  They 
had  ceased  to  stare  at  her.  How  could  she  sever  the 
little  steel  chain  round  his  throat  ?  He  could  not  cry  out 
or  raise  his  hand  to  oppose  her ;  she  leaned  over  him  and 
took  hold  of  the  key.  She  shrank  in  all  her  nerves  from 
the  horror  of  touching  him,  but  she  put  a  strong  pressure 
on  herself  and  tried  to  wrench  the  key  from  the  ring  on 
which  it  hung.  He  seemed  insensible  and  unaware  of 
what  she  was  doing.  But  suddenly,  as  she  succeeded  in 
wrenching  open  the  ring,  breaking  her  shell-like  finger- 
nails in  doing  so,  his  eyelids  were  lifted  and  consciousness 
once  more  glared  at  her  from  his  regard.  She  felt  herself 
turn  white  with  terror  and  disgust,  but  she  did  not  loosen 
her  hold  and  she  pulled  the  key  off  the  ring.  His  eyes 
cursed  her,  but  his  curse  was  impotent. 

She  hurried  to  the  leather  box,  fitted  the  key  in  its 
lock,  and  opened  it.  She  did  not  even  look  back  at  the 
bed.  She  was  in  haste  lest  the  consul  or  someone  else 
should  come  up  the  stairs.  In  the  box  there  was  nothing 
but  papers.  There  were  the  diplomas  of  orders;  there 
were  certificates  of  marriage  and  birth ;  there  were  some 
old  letters  ;  and  there  was  a  large  sealed  packet  addressed 
to  Vanderlin.  There  was  nothing  else.  Whatever  it 
might  once  have  held  of  value  had  been  removed  pre« 


536  THE  MASSARENES. 

viously  by  himself,  and  the  stars  of  the  orders  had  been 
pawned  and  lost. 

She  took  out  the  packet  addressed  to  Vanderlin,  laid 
the  other  documents  in  order,  locked  the  box  and  returned 
to  the  bedside  to  put  back  the  key  on  the  chain. 

Then  she  saw  a  change  which  it  was  impossible  to  mis- 
read. He  was  dead.  The  cerebral  excitement,  caused 
by  his  recognition  of  her  and  of  her  endeavor  to  seize  the 
key,  had  killed  him.  He  was  dead  and  could  never  bear 
witness  against  her.  She  fastened  the  little  key  on  its 
ring,  drew  the  sheet  up  over  his  breast,  and  with  a  shud- 
der left  the  bedside.  Then  she  opened  the  bodice  of  her 
gown  and  put  the  packet  against  her  corset ;  it  was  bulky, 
but  when  she  put  on  her  golfing-cloak  it  did  not  show. 

When  the  German  consul  mounting  the  stairs  opened 
the  door  of  the  chamber  he  saw  a  lady  in  black  and  gre}r, 
who  kneeled  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  the  lamplight  illumin- 
ing the  golden  coils  of  her  hair.  He  was  greatly  touched 
and  impressed.  She  rose  from  her  knees  and  addressed 
him  with  a  sweet,  sad  gravity. 

"  My  poor  old  friend  expired  but  a  moment  ago,"  she 
said  softly.  "  I  am  so  glad  I  came.  He  would  otherwise 
have  died  in  solitude.  Oh,  how  harsh  and  cruel  is  the 
world !  " 

Then  she  gave  him  her  name  and  address,  said  that  she 
had  known  the  dead  man  from  her  childhood,  and  had 
come  to  nurse  him  because  she  had  understood  that  he 
was  all  alone. 

The  consul,  a  simple  sturdy  man  of  business,  was  deeply 
moved.  When  he  had  executed  the  few  formalities  neces- 
sary, and  affixed  his  seal  to  the  despatch-box,  he  begged 
this  charming  and  compassionate  stranger  to  allow  him 
the  honor  of  driving  her  back  to  her  hotel. 

"  Why  was  not  his  daughter  with  him  ?  "  she  said  to 
the  consul.  "  Oh,  I  know  why — they  have  quarrelled ; 
but  it  is  such  a  sacred  tie  !  Surely " 

"  The  Countess  Olga  has  always  been  most  generous  to 
her  father,  madame,"  replied  the  gentleman.  "  But  it 
was  of  no  use.  It  was  pouring  money  into  sieve.  I  hp,ve 
telegraphed  to  her.  She  will  probably  come  in  person,  but 
she  cannot  be  here  before  another  day  at  the  least." 


THE  MASSAUENES.  537 

"  How  fortunate  I  had  the  start  of  her  !  "  thought  the 
ministering  angel  of  this  deathbed,  as  she  watched  the 
consul  affix  his  seals  to  the  old  despatch-box,  of  which  the 
only  contents  of  any  value  were  lying  safe  against  the 
satin  and  lace  of  her  stays.  She  would  have  infinitely 
preferred  slipping  away  unseen  from  that  sorry  house,  and 
finding  her  way  as  she  could,  on  foot  or  by  cab,  back  to 
her  hotel  unseen  by  anyone.  But  her  mind  quickly 
grasped  all  the  points  of  a  question,  and  she  immediately 
perceived  that  her  visit  to  be  creditable  must  be  uncon- 
cealed, and  when  the  fascinated  official  offered  to  drive 
her  back  to  her  hotel,  she  accepted  the  offer,  realizing  all 
the  solidity,  veracity,  and  respectability  which  his  coun- 
tenance of  her  conferred.  She  left  the  woman  of  the 
house  in  charge  of  the  dead  body,  and  with  an  aureole  of 
virtue  round  her  head  descended  the  stair  which  she  had 
ascended  on  so  questionable  an  errand. 


538  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

WHEN  she  reached  the  hotel,  everyone  was  already  gone 
to  the  concert  at  the  Casino;  it  was  Thursday  night;  she 
got  to  her  own  rooms  unperceived,  and  told  her  maid  that 
she  had  lost  her  way  in  the  olive  woods,  was  terribly  tired, 
and  only  wished  for  some  hot  soup  and  a  cutlet,  she  was 
indeed  fatigued  and  worn  out ;  she  had  found  the  good 
consul's  cab  dreadfully  slow  arid  rickety;  his  great  coat 
had  smelt  unpleasantly  of  very  coarse  tobacco,  and  the 
night  was  cokl  and  the  way  into  the  town  seemed  endless. 

She  did  not  venture  to  look  at  the  packet  she  had  stolen 
until  she  was  safely  in  the  warmth  of  her  bed,  with  a  read- 
ing lamp  beside  her,  and  an  eider-down  quilt  over  her. 
She  did  not  feel  at  ease,  and  she  was  haunted  by  vague 
terrors.  The  steel-blue  eyes  of  the  dying  man  haunted 
her.  Hatred,  powerless,  but  only  the  more  intense  for  its 
impotency,  had  stared  at  her  with  a  look  which  she  felt 
that  she  would  never  forget  if  she  lived  for  a  hundred 
years.  Moreover,  she  knew  that  she  had  committed  a 
crime,  or  what  people  would  call  a  crime  if  they  knew  of 
it.  She  knew  that  it  had  been  an  ugly  thing  to  do ;  the 
kind  of  thing  which  people  who  are  well-born  and  well- 
bred  do  not  do.  There  is  a  class  of  sins  which  are  well- 
bred;  there  is  another  class  which  is  caddish.  She  knew 
that  this  act  of  hers  belonged  to  the  latter  category. 

Nevertheless,  she  opened  the  packet  when  she  was  quite 
safe  from  interruption,  whilst  the  mellowed  light  of  her 
reading  lamp  shed  its  soft  radiance  on  her  pillow,  and  the 
billets  of  olive-wood  were  burning  fragrantly  upon  the 
hearth.  Her  pulses  beat  unevenly  as  she  opened  it,  for  it 
was  very  possible  that  she  had  gone  through  all  this  agita- 
tion and  danger  quite  uselessly.  There  might  be  nothing 
in  it  whatever  of  interest  or  value. 

She  undid  it  with  great  care  so  as  to  leave  the  seals  un- 
broken. Oddly  enough,  there  recurred  to  her  at  that  mo- 
ment the  memory  of  her  little  son  looking  at  her  with  his 
sorrowful  angry  eyes  and  saying : 


THE  MASSARENES.  539 

"I  don't  know  much,  but  I  think — I  think — I  think 
you  are  a  wicked,  wicked  woman !  " 

Was  she  a  wicked  woman  ? 

It  was  a  very  unpleasant,  vulgar  kind  of  thing  to  be  ! 
She  had  always  thought  that  wicked  women  belonged  ex- 
clusively to  the  lower  classes.  The  idea  that  she  might 
be  wicked  was  disagreeable  to  her ;  it  was  as  though  she 
had  been  forced  to  wear  a  cheap  gown  or  carry  a  cotton 
umbrella. 

The  stare  of  the  dying  man  had  brought  the  same  charge 
against  her.  She  did  not  think  the  charge  was  true.  She 
was  only  a  woman,  all  alone,  in  difficult  circumstances, 
who  tried  to  help  herself;  that  was  all.  The  fault  was 
clearly  with  those  who  had  placed  her  in  those  circum- 
stances ;  with  Cocky  first  of  all,  with  Ronald  next,  and, 
above  all,  with  that  dreadful  brute  whose  bones  lay  in  the 
crypt  at  Vale  Royal. 

The  documents  were  all  in  German,  but  she  knew  that 
language  well  and  read  them  easily.  There  was  nothing 
dubious  in  them.  They  were  the  confession  of  Khris  of 
Karstein  of  the  wickedness  he  had  done  in  bringing 
about  the  separation  of  his  daughter  from  Adrian  Vander- 
lin,  and  the  proofs  of  the  false  testimony  he  had  caused  to 
be  brought  against  her.  They  were  indisputably  genuine, 
attested,  and  positive.  They  had  been  lying  in  his  de- 
spatch-box for  years  ;  perhaps  his  remorse  had  not  been 
strong  enough  to  impel  him  to  condemn  himself,  or  per- 
haps he  had  reserved  them  for  still  greater  stress  of  want 
when  he  could  use  then  to  obtain  subsidies,  or  perhaps, 
seeing  nothing  of  Vanderlin,  he  had  been  in  doubt  as  to 
how  far  they  would  be  welcome.  She  who  had  now  pos- 
sessed herself  of  them  did  know  how  precious  they  would 
be  esteemed.  But  would  she  dare  to  give  them  to  either 
Vanderlin  or  Olga  zu  Lynar?  What  history  could  she 
invent,  plausible  enough,  probable  enough,  to  account 
naturally  for  her  possession  of  them?  Would  she,  if  she 
could  think  of  one — would  she  have  the  courage  (some 
people  would  call  it  the  effrontery)  to  carry  through  euch 
a  piece  of  comedy  ? 

Her  nerve  had  been  shaken  by  all  she  had  suffered  from 
William  Massarene.  She  was  no  longer  as  sure  of  her  own 


540  THE  MASSARENES. 

audacity  and  dexterity  as  she  once  had  been.  She  would 
have  burnt  these  papers  without  the  slightest  hesitation  if 
burning  them  would  have  done  her  any  good ;  but  their 
disposal,  unburnt,  cost  her  much  torturing  indecision,  and 
she  could  not  forget  the  glare  of  old  Khris's  dying  eyes, 
so  full  of  impotent  hatred. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  they  were  genuine,  and  bore  in- 
ternal evidence  of  their  bona  fides,  there  could  not  be  any 
doubt  thrown  on  their  accuracy,  nor  on  the  unblemished 
motives  of  her  intervention.  No  one  could  blame  her  for 
giving  documents  to  the  person  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
dressed. She  understood  that  they  were  worth  many 
millions  to  the  man  made  of  millions,  as  Boo  called  him. 
She  read  them  all  twice  over  to  be  sure  that  she  had  made 
no  mistake  in  her  perusal  and  estimate  of  them.  No !  She 
had  made  none.  Their  meaning  was  clear  as  crystal. 
There  could  not  be  two  constructions  of  their  text  and 
import. 

What  should  she  do  with  them  ?     She  was  uncertain. 

Where  was  Vanderlin  ? 

In  Paris,  they  said. 

Burn  them,  and  continue  her  scheme  of  marriage? 

Tell  him,  and  withhold  them  until  she  got  what  she 
wanted  ? 

Either  choice  had  its  drawbacks.  She  was  conscious 
that  both  were  what  people  would  call  discreditable.  She 
endeavored  to  think  of  something  which  should  not  be 
discreditable,  yet  should  be  profitable. 

Sitting  up  against  her  pillows  with  a  pink  plush  dress- 
ing-jacket trimmed  with  swansdown  on  her  shoulders,  and 
her  bright  hair  rolled  closely  round  her  head,  she  looked 
a  charming,  innocent,  poetic  picture  in  the  warm  and 
fragrant  atmosphere  of  her  chamber. 

Painful  emotions  were  odious  to  her;  tragic  events  still 
more  so  ;  she  liked  her  life  to  be  all  dressing  and  dining 
and  flirting,  doing  theatres,  leading  cotillons,  hunting  with 
the  best  horses,  laughing  and  being  amused,  the  whole 
sprinkled  intrigue  and  stimulated  by  exciting  much  pas- 
sion and  feeling  a  little. 

But  anything  serious  she  detested,  anything  painful 
annoyed  her. 


TEE'  MASSARENES.  541 

She  wished  she  had  let  the  despatch-box  alone.  She 
was  alarmed  and  discouraged.  The  papers  were  all  which 
she  had  expected  to  find  them,  but  she  had  not  courage  to 
use  them.  She  was  like  a  person  who  steals  jewels  and 
then  is  afraid  to  sell  them,  or  pawn  them,  or  wear  them, 
for  fear  of  inquiry.  She  cried  a  little  from  the  wretched 
tension  of  her  nerves  and  over-fatigue.  She  took  a  few 
drops  of  chloral  and  put  the  documents  under  her  pillow 
and  decided  to  try  and  go  to  sleep.  Night  brings  counsel. 

In  the  morning,  after  her  bath  and  her  coffee,  things 
wore  a  different  aspect.  She  did  not  see  the  old  man's 
dying  stare,  nor  the  boy's  reproachful  sad  eyes,  any  longer. 
She  made  up  her  mind  suddenly ;  she  said  to  her  maid, 
"  Pack  up  a  day  gown  and  an  evening  gown — I  am  going 
away  for  two  days."  And  said  to  Boo's  governess,  "Take 
care  of  Lady  Beatrix,  and  don't  let  her  get  into  mischief; 
and  take  care  nobody  lets  her  go  to  the  Casino." 

She  wrote  a  telegram  to  Wuffie  at  Cannes :  "  So 
thankful  I  came.  I  could  soothe  his  dying  hours,  and  per- 
suaded him  to  a  tardy  repentance.  I  go  to  Paris  on  his 
errand.  The  consul  is  charged  with  his  burial.  Will  ex- 
plain on  return." 

The  consul's  name  looked  well,  she  thought,  in  this 
message. 

The  young  cuirassier  did  not  recognize  his  correspondent 
in  this  mood;  but  he  was  simple  and  sentimental  by  tem- 
perament, and  he  was  in  love.  He  put  the  note  in  his 
pocket  with  a  photograph  of  her  which  he  had  carried  for 
three  months  next  his  heart,  and  went  to  the  golfing- 
ground.  He  could  not  resist  speaking  of  her  there  to  a 
cousin,  a  very  big  cousin,  no  less  a  person  than  the  gentle- 
man with  the  glassy  eyes  whom  Katherine  Massarene  once 
had  snubbed. 

"  Is  it  not  good  of  her  ?  "  he  said  enthusiastically  to  this 
very  big  cousin. 

"  Extremely  good,"  replied  that  gentleman.  "  So  very 
good,  indeed,  that  I  have  difficulty  in  picturing  the 
duchess  in  such  a  role.  But  women  are  protean." 

Wuffie  pondered  on  the  reply  and  failed  to  under- 
stand it. 

She,  meanwhile,  of  whom  the  great  personage  spoke  so 


642  THE  MASSARENES. 

irreverently,  was  rushing  swiftly  across  Central  France, 
her  strength  sustained  by  a  well-filled  tea-basket  of  the 
latest  invention,  and  most  extensive  resources.  With  her 
traveled  the  dead  man's  papers.  She  was  alone  nearly  all 
the  way ;  at  that  season  every  one  was  coming  southward, 
few  were  going  northward,  except  some  English  members 
leaving  Monte  Carlo  play  and  pigeon-shooting  for  the 
opening  of  Parliament,  rueful  and  gloomy  at  their  lot. 

Her  mind  was  filled  with  unformed  plans  and  conflict- 
ing projects.  She  formed  a  fresh  one  every  minute.  She 
could  not  decide  what  would  be  the  surest  wisdom,  and 
she  felt  so  afraid  of  her  own  indecision  that  Paris  was 
reached  all  too  soon  for  her. 

She  went  to  her  favorite  hotel  and  had  a  night's  rest. 
There  was  snow  in  Paris  and  on  the  surrounding  country. 
The  temperature  seemed  very  low  after  that  of  the  Alpes 
Maritimes,  and  her  spirits  sank  with  the  mercury.  But  in 
the  morning  she  had  herself  dressed  becomingly  with 
sable  furs  which  enhanced  the  beauty  and  delicacy  of  her 
complexion  and  the  golden  gleam  of  her  hair,  and  went 
out  of  the  Cour  d'honneur  of  the  great  caravanserai  on 
foot.  It  was  not  very  far  from  the  end  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli 
in  which  there  was  situated  the  vast  and  imposing  build- 
ing called  the  Maison  Vanderlin,  where  ministers  were 
suppliants  and  kings  were  debtors.  Her  heart  quaked 
within  her  as  she  ascended  its  broad  white  steps. 

Even  yet  she  had  not  decided  what  it  would  be  best  to 
say  ;  but  inside  her  muff  were  the  documents  which  she 
had  taken  from  the  despatch-box. 

"Is  M.  Vanderlin  in  Paris?"  she  asked  the  stately 
functionary  who  waited  beside  the  inner  glass  doors. 

"  Yes,  madame,"  he  answered. 

"  Is  he  in  the  bank  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madame." 

She  passed  within.     She  gave  her  card. 

"  I  require  to  see  him  alone,"  she  said  to  the  officials 
who  received  her. 

"  It  will  be  impossible,"  they  answered  her.  "M.  Van- 
derlin sees  no  one  except  by  appointment." 

"  Try,"  she  urged  on  them.  "  Take  my  card.  Say  that 
I  come  on  an  urgent  matter." 


THE  MASSARENES.  543 

"  It  is  impossible,  madame,"  they  reiterated.  "  He  never 
receives  anyone  without  previous  arrangement,  often  weeks 
in  advance.  At  this  moment  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs  is  with  him." 

"Gaulois?  Oh,  I  know  him  well!  Show  me  to  a 
private  room,  and  when  M.  Gaulois  comes  out,  bring  him 
to  me." 

The  officials  were  moved  by  the  beauty  and  grace  of 
the  suppliant,  and  consented  to  let  her  wait  in  a  small 
apartment  warmed  as  all  the  building  was  by  hot  air,  and 
looking  on  an  inner  court  where  a  fountain  played. 

The  time  that  she  waited  was  not  more  than  twenty 
minutes,  but  it  seemed  to  her  to  be  hours.  At  last  the 
minister  was  ushered  into  her  presence ;  an  agreeable, 
sagacious,  unscrupulous  man  of  the  south  of  France,  who 
had  begun  life  as  an  advocate  in  the  town  of  Dax. 

He  was  her  humble  servant;  he  was  at  her  feet;  he 
would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  do  her  bidding ;  but  if 
it  were  a  question  of  seeing  Vanderlin,  that  was  impos- 
sible ;  he  regretted  it  profoundly,  but  it  was  impossible  ; 
two  ambassadors,  a  nuncio,  an  Orleans  prince,  and  an 
English  banker  were  all  waiting  their  turn  of  audience. 

"  One  would  think  that  he  was  a  king ! "  she  said 
irritably,  while  tears  of  rage  and  disappointment  started 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Alas !  madame,  he  exercises  the  only  sovereignty  truly 
potent  in  modern  life — that  of  wealth,"  said  the  minister. 
44  He  is  greatly  occupied,  and  the  rules  which  regulate 
his  interviews  are  rigorously  observed.  May  I  ask  if  you 
know  him?" 

"  I  know  him,  yes."  She  added,  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation, "  I  require  to  see  him.  Prince  Khristof  of  Kar- 
stein-Lowenthal  is  dead." 

Gaulois  was  astonished. 

"  That  was  the  father  of  the  lady  he  divorced  ?  His 
death  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  Vanderlin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  has;  I  require  to  see  him." 

Gaulois  was  perplexed.  At  last  he  reluctantly  con- 
sented to  return  to  Vanderlin's  room,  and  inform  him  of 
her  presence  and  her  desire.  She  was  again  left  alone ; 
the  rippling  of  the  fountain  the  only  sound  on  the  silence. 


544  THE  MASSAEENES. 

She  had  burnt  her  boats ;  she  could  not  turn  back  now. 
The  time  again  appeared  to  her  interminable,  though  it 
was  not  more  than  eight  minutes  before  the  minister 
returned. 

"Dearest  lady,  I  have  done  my  uttermost,  but  it  is  im- 
possible that  he  can  receive  you  here.  If  you  will  leave 
word  where  you  are  staying,  he  will  have  the  honor  of 
waiting  on  you  at  four  o'clock.  Alas  !  men  of  business  are 
insensible  and  farouches !  Allow  me,  duchess,  to  profit 
by  Vanderlin's  austerity,  and  enjoy  the  felicity  of  driving 
you  home." 

There  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  She  was  forced  to 
let  the  loquacious  and  amiable  Gaulois  conduct  her  to  his 
coupe,  and  was  obliged  to  laugh  and  talk  with  him,  and 
consent  to  be  carried  by  him  to  breakfast  with  his  wife  at 
his  official  residence  on  the  Quay  d'Orsay.  Since  William 
Massarene  had  passed  out  of  her  life,  she  had  never  found 
it  so  hard  to  counterfeit  the  gaiety  and  interest  which  are 
necessary  in  social  intercourse. 

44  Did  you  tell  M.  Vanderlin  of  Prince  Khristof  s  death  ?  " 
she  asked  of  Gaulois  as  he  accompanied  her  downstairs 
after  breakfast. 

44  Ah,  won  Dieu,  non  !  "  exclaimed  the  minister.  "  Who 
speaks  to  any  man  of  a  divorced  wife's  family  ?  " 

44 1  was  wondering  if  he  had  any  feeling  at  all  for  the 
poor  old  man,"  she  said  with  much  pathos. 

44 1  should  think  none ;  very  pardonably,'1  replied  the 
minister.  "The  poor  old  man  drew  an  allowance  of  a 
thousand  francs  a  month  from  Vanderlin  and  it  all  went 
in  play." 

44 But  the  poor  prince  had  some  conscience?" 

44  Had  he  indeed  ?  He  concealed  it  very  carefully 
throughout  a  long  life." 

44  Ma  belle  Sourisette  !  "  he  thought,  "  what  secret  have 
you  got  hold  of  that  you  are  going  to  try  to  sell  to 
Vanderlin  ?  " 

He  had  been  a  lawyer,  he  was  now  a  statesman ;  despite 
his  loquacity  he  was  very  discreet ;  he  told  no  one  that  he 
had  met  her  at  the  great  banking-house  in  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli. 

By  the  time  breakfast  was  over  it  was  nearly  three 


THE  MASSARENES.  545 

o'clock,  and  when  she  returned  to  her  hotel  she  gave  an 
hour  to  her  toilette.  She  was  conscious  that  she  looked 
what  Parisians  call  dtfaite.  She  was  nervous  and  unde- 
cided, and  she  dreaded  the  visit  of  Vanderliii  whilst  she 
desired  it.  It  was  only  a  little  after  three  when  she  went 
into  her  salon  which  looked  on  the  Rue  Rouget  de  Lisle  ; 
and  sat  down  to  wait  for  him  vainly  trying  to  read  the 
morning  journals. 

She  always  dressed  in  accordance  with  the  character  she 
assumed,  and  she  wore  a  rather  sombre  loose  gown  of 
grey  velvet  trimmed  with  chincilla  and  old  Mechlin  lace, 
a  kind  of  gown  that  Vittoria  Colonna  or  Blanche  of 
Castille  might  have  worn.  Her  own  personality  only  re- 
vealed itself  in  the  diamond  arrow  run  through  the  coils 
of  her  hair  and  the  little  bouquet  of  heliotrope  at  her 
throat.  She  was  melancholy  but  she  was  preeminently 
seductive. 

Punctually  as  the  timepiece  struck  four  Vanderlin  was 
announced.  He  entered  and  saluted  her  with  his  usual 
grave  and  distant  courtesy. 

"  You  desired  to  see  me,  madame  ?  I  am  at  your  com- 
mands, of  course.  I  hope  Mr.  Gaulois  explained  that  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  receive  you  this  morning." 

No  one  could  have  been  more  courteous,  but  she  felt 
that  he  was  on  his  guard  against  her  and  that  he  saw  her 
desire  to  see  him  singular ;  the  perception  of  that  did  not 
decrease  the  embarrassment  she  felt.  She  was  Venus, 
but  he  would  never  be  Tannhauser. 

After  all,  she  did  not  want  him  to  be  Tannhauser :  she 
only  wanted  some  small  share  of  his  million,  some  little 
mouse-like  nibbling  at  his  golden  store. 

"  You  must  have  been  much  surprised  at  my  request," 
she  said  as  she  motioned  to  him  to  be  seated.  "But 
I  have  a  communication  to  make  to  you.  I  was  present 
at  the  death  of  Prince  Khristof  of  Karstein." 

The  expression  of  Vanderlin's  features  grew  very  cold. 

"The  fact  of  that  death  was  telegraphed  to  me,"  he 
replied.  "  It  cannot  concern  me  in  any  way." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  sure.  Nor  can  I  conceive  why  you,  a  total 
stranger,  were  with  him," 

35 


546  THE  KAS8AEE&E8. 

"  I  was  not  a  stranger  to  him.  I  have  known  him  many 
years ;  and  I  am  about  to  marry  his  grandnephew.  He 
was  altogether  abandoned  ;  he  had  not  even  a  servant  or 
a  nurse  ;  I  did  what  I  could." 

Vanderlin  was  silent ;  he,  like  the  royal  person  on  the 
golfing  ground,  had  difficulty  in  imagining  her  in  these 
circumstances.  He  wondered  what  she  was  aiming  at — 
what  she  desired. 

"  I  did  what  I  could,"  she  repeated  ;  "  he  suffered 
greatly  ;  he  was  completely  paralyzed  ;  but  for  a  few  mo- 
ments he  recovered  his  speech  a  little,  and  he  made  me 
understand — various  things." 

She  paused,  hoping  to  excite  his  curiosity,  wishing  to 
induce  him  to  interrogate  her.  But  he  remained  mute  ; 
he  was  used  to  listening  in  silence  whilst  people  revealed 
to  him  their  necessities,  described  their  projects,  or  en- 
deavored to  awaken  his  sympathies. 

She  was  discouraged  and  embarrassed.  Changing  her 
manner  she  said  with  her  natural  abruptness. 

"  You  were  much  attached  to  your  wife,  were  you 
not?" 

She  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  composure  rudely 
disturbed ;  an  expression  of  extreme  pain,  a  flush  of  ex- 
treme offence,  came  on  his  face  :  an  unhealed  wound  had 
been  roughly  touched. 

"  On  that  subject,"  he  said  briefly,  "  I  allow  no  one  to 
speak  to  me.  I  told  you  so  at  Les  Mouettes." 

"  But  I  am  going  to  speak  to  you  !  "  said  Mouse  with 
her  more  natural  manner,  "  whether  you  allow  it  or 
whether  you  don't.  As  I  tell  you,  I  will  be  quite  frank 
with  you,"  she  continued  with  a  graceful  embarrassment 
which  became  her  infinitely.  "I  had  wished  to  know 
you,  to  attract  you  if  I  could.  Say  it  was  vanity,  neces- 
sity, love  of  money — what  you  will ;  I  admit  that  I  had 
that  idea  when  I  was  so  hospitably  received  by  you." 

A  gesture  of  impatience  escaped  him  ;  she  was  telling 
him  nothing  that  he  did  not  know. 

"But,"  she  pursued,  u  when  I  had  that  brief  conversa- 
tion with  you  after  luncheon  at  your  house,  I  understood 
that  your  heart  was  closed  to  all  except  one  memory. 
With  the  prior  knowledge  I  possessed  of  your  wife's 


THE  MASSAEENES.  547 

father,  and  the  recollection  of  certain  hints  he  had  given 
me,  I  conceived  the  idea  that  he  could  if  he  chose  estab- 
lish her  innocence.  I  determined  to  try  and  persuade 
him  to  do  so  if  he  possessed  the  power  as  I  thought.  I 
went  for  that  purpose  to  Monte  Carlo;  and  on  reaching 
there  I  learned  that  he  had  been  struck  down  by  hemi- 
plegia  at  the  tables." 

He  was  now  listening  to  her  with  great  intentness,  his 
eyes  dwelling  on  her  with  a  searching  interrogation  which 
did  not  make  her  part  the  easier  to  play.  They  were 
eyes  trained  to  read  the  minds  and  penetrate  the  false- 
hoods of  others. 

"  I  found  the  poor  old  Prince  all  alone  in  a  miserable 
room  with  a  bear  of  a  doctor,  and  not  a  nun  even  present 
to  see  to  his  wants.  I  am  not  a  very  susceptible  person, 
but  it  hurt  me  to  think  of  what  he  was,  and  all  he  might 
have  been.  I  did  what  little  I  could  for  him,  and  he 
recognized  me,  and  was  pleased  ;  one  could  see  that  by 
his  eyes.  I  sent  all  over  the  place  for  nurses,  for  physi- 
cians, for  the  German  consul,  for  the  Lutheran  pastor, 
but  no  one  came  until  the  end — too  late.  He  had  lodg- 
ings in  an  out-of-the-way  country  road;  I  suppose  he 
could  not  afford  any  better — everything  went  at  the  tables. 
Well,  he  recovered  his  faculties  a  little,  and  he  made  me 
understand  that  he  was  repentant  and  wretched  because 
he  had  wronged  his  daughter  and  separated  her  from  you. 
He  was  almost  inarticulate  but  I  managed  to  make  out  his 
meaning ;  I  know  German  very  well.  I  gathered  that 
your  wife  was  innocent ;  that  she  was  the  victim  of 
suborned  witnesses,  and  that  her  father  had  been  the  chief 
fabricator  of  the  testimony  which  ruined  her." 

Vanderlin  with  difficulty  controlled  his  emotion.  He 
was  used  to  conceal  his  thoughts,  but  for  once  his  reserve 
broke  down,  and  he  was  unable  to  conceal  his  anxiety. 

"  Go  on  !  Go  on  ! "  he  said  in  a  breathless  vein.  "  Are 
there  any  proofs  of  what  you  say  ?  " 

"  Hear  me  out,"  she  said  with  some  impatience. 
"  What  Khris  said  was  mumbled,  incoherent,  rambling, 
his  tongue  moved  with  difficulty.  But  I  understood  so 
much  as  this.  That  the  lady  they  call  the  Countess  Olga 
zu  Lynar,  and  whom  as  you  gave  me  to  understand  you 


518  THE  MASSARENES. 

have  never  ceased  to  regret,  is  absolutely  innocent  of  any 
offence  against  you.  Your  jealousy  was  wickedly  aroused 
and  your  credulity  abused." 

"  These  are  words  !  "  cried  Vanderlin.  "I  want  proof! 
What  proof  did  he  give  you?  He  was  always  a  knave 
and  a  comedian." 

"  Poor  old  Khris  !  "  said  Mouse  softy  and  sadly.  "  He 
was  sincere  on  his  deathbed,  at  any  rate,  for  he  confessed 
to  sins  which  no  one  would  wittingly  assume."  Then 
she  added  with  a  certain  embarrassed  but  graceful 
cdlinerie,  "  I  have  proof,  proof  positive  ;  his  attestation 
and  those  of  his  bribed  witnesses.  But  what  will  }TOU 
give  me  for  them  ?  I  am  a  very  poor  woman,  M.  Vander- 
lin, and  you  are  a  very  rich  man !  " 

Vanderlin  rose  impetuously ;  he  looked  twenty  years 
younger ;  the  mask  of  impassive  coldness  which  he  had 
worn  so  long  dropped ;  his  natural  expression  was  re- 
vealed, his  eyes  shone  with  the  light  of  hope  and  expec- 
tation. 

"  I  will  give  you  anything  you  wish  ! "  he  answered. 
"  Anything  !  Of  what  use  is  wealth  without  happiness  ?  " 

She  changed  her  tactics,  for  she  knew  that  to  make  any 
demand  was  dangerous  and  unseemly  ;  and  she  realized 
that  this  man's  gratitude  would  be  boundless  and  his 
generosity  as  great. 

"It  was  only  my  jest,"  she  said  with  a  smile.  "  I  am 
not  a  cabrioleuse.  Here  are  the  documents.  I  am,  of 
course,  not  a  very  good  judge  of  such  things,  but  they 
seem  to  me  quite  indisputable." 

Then  risking  everything  on  one  chance  she  gave  him 
the  packet. 

He  turned  away  from  her  and  went  to  one  of  the 
windows  and  stood  so  that  she  could  not  see  his  counte- 
nance, whilst  he  examined  the  papers  with  the  swift  but  un- 
erring perusal  of  a  man  accustomed  every  day  of  his  life 
to  examine  and  adjudicate  upon  important  documents. 

It  seemed  to  her  years  that  he  stood  thus,  the  curtain 
falling  so  that  she  could  not  see  his  face.  Her  anxiety 
was  terrible.  If  the  papers  should  not  satisfy  him  ?  If 
he  did  not  desire  reunion  with  his  wife  ?  If  her  own  acts 
should  appear  to  him,  as  they  well  might  do,  effrontery; 


THE  MASSAKENES.  549 

interference,  attempt  at  extortion?  Above  all,  if  he 
should  not  believe  the  description  she  had  given  him  of  the 
last  moments  of  Khristof  of  Karstein  ?  She  was  safe  from 
all  risk  of  contradiction.  The  doctor  could  not  declare 
that  the  dying  man  had  not  recovered  speech  during  his 
absence.  The  consul  had  only  arrived  when  he  was 
already  dead.  The  woman  of  the  house  could  testify  to 
the  presence  of  the  foreign  lady  in  the  chamber  from 
early  afternoon  to  late  evening.  Her  narrative  was  abso- 
lutely safe  from  any  discovery  of  its  falsity.  But  still, 
she  felt  afraid  of  Vanderlin.  Since  she  had  seen  the  in- 
terior of  that  great  establishment  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli, 
and  had  heard  of  all  those  great  personages  waiting  in  his 
antechamber,  he  seemed  a  much  more  imposing  individ- 
uality to  her  than  had  seemed  the  sad  and  solitary  master 
of  Les  Mouettes.  But  her  conscience  was  clear.  If  she 
had  cheated  him  in  the  manner,  she  had  not  cheated  him 
in  the  matter,  of  her  revelations.  The  papers  were 
genuine.  That  was  her  great  point.  The  one  solid  and 
indisputable  truth  which  underlay  like  a  rock  of  safety 
her  whole  impudent  fabric  of  lies. 

After  what  seemed  to  her  a  century  of  silence  and  sus- 
pense he  left  the  embrasure  of  the  window  and  turned 
toward  her.  His  face  was  still  pale  and  grave,  but  there 
was  the  light  of  a  great  happiness  upon  it,  of  an  immense 
relief;  the  frozen  snows  of  an  endless  sorrow  had  melted 
in  a  moment,  the  sun  shone  on  his  path  once  more. 

"  Madame,  I  thank  you,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  which 
had  a  tremor  in  it.  "  For  eight  years  I  have  not  lived. 
You  have  given  me  back  to  life." 

She  had  the  supreme  tact,  the  supreme  self-control,  to 
dismiss  him  as  though  she  had  had  no  other  purpose  in  her 
action  than  to  do  simply  what  was  natural  and  kind  in 
obedience  to  a  dead  sinner's  trust. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  she  said  simply,  with  that  perfect 
intuition  which  had  so  often  served  her  purpose  so  well : 
"  and  now  go.  I  am  sure  you  must  wish  to  be  alone.  I 
am  very,  very  glad  to  have  been  of  use  to  you  and  glad 
that  the  poor  old  man  did  make  some  true  atonement 
at  the  last." 

Profoundly  touched,  Vanderlin  kissed  her  hands. 


550  THE  MASSARENES. 

"I  will  return  to-morrow  at  this  hour;  you  must  tell 
me  your  embarrassments  and  employ  my  resources  as 
you  will.  Command  my  friendship  as  long  as  my  life 
lasts."  He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  added  with  an  in- 
finite tenderness  of  tone  :  "  I  am  sure  you  will  also  com- 
mand that  of  Olga." 

Left  alone,  as  the  door  closed  on  him,  she  buried  her 
face  on  the  sofa  cushions  and  cried  and  laughed  hysteric- 
ally, for  the  strain  on  her  nerves  had  been  very  great- 
Then  she  threw  her  tear-wet  handkerchief  into  the  air  and 
played  ball  with  it.  What  fools  men  were !  Oh,  what 
fools  !  Taking  their  passions  and  affections  so  seriously 
and  tragically,  and  letting  a  love  and  its  loss  spoil  all 
the  gains  of  the  world  to  them.  Then  pride  in  her  own 
genius  and  success  danced  like  a  band  of  elves  before  her 
eyes.  Sarah  Bernhardt  herself  could  not  have  played  that 
part  with  more  exquisite  art. 

She  touched  the  electric  bell,  bade  them  telephone  for  a 
coupe  and  a  box  at  the  Gymnase,  and  then  had  herself 
put  in  visiting  trim,  and  when  the  coupe  pulled  up  by 
the  peristyle  went  out  to  see  some  friends  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  whose  day  for  afternoon  reception  it  hap- 
pened to  be. 

In  the  circles  of  the  old  aristocracy  she  was  sure  not  to 
meet  the  republican  minister,  Gaulois.  She  did  not  wish 
to  see  him.  She  felt  as  if  he  would  read  in  her  eyes  that 
she  had  triumphed  in  her  interview  with  Vanderlin.  She 
was  a  little  ashamed  of  what  she  had  done  ;  not  much, 
for  success  and  shame  are  not  sisters,  but  a  little. 


THE  MASSAEENES.  551 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Two  days  later  Olga  zu  Lynar  was  seated  by  her  fire- 
side in  the  home  of  her  choice  in  the  Swabian  Alb,  where 
the  March  day  had  none  of  the  sunlight  and  fragrance  of 
Monte  Carlo.  Snow  was  still  deep  in  the  passes  of  the 
hills,  and  blocks  of  ice  were  breaking  up  on  all  the  rivers. 
The  great  oak  and  pine-woods  were  black  against  heavy 
stormclouds,  and  enclosed  the  landscape  on  all  sides  save 
one,  where  they  were  cleft  abruptly  by  a  narrow  gorge, 
which  alone  gave  access  to  the  world  beyond. 

The  news  of  her  father's  end  at  Monte  Carlo  had  in- 
tensified the  melancholy  of  her  thoughts.  She  had 
always  hoped  whilst  he  lived  that  some  revelation,  some 
atonement,  might  come  from  him. 

He  was  dead ;  and  death  carries  with  it  its  own  depres- 
sion, its  own  hopelessness.  Death  in  her  father's  case 
seemed  to  her  intensified  in  horror,  because  it  was  the  end 
of  a  base,  valueless,  miserable  life.  It  filled  her  with  the 
same  sort  of  despair  which  Hurstmanceaux  had  felt  on 
hearing  that  Cocky  was  dying  at  Staghurst. 

Nothing  could  be  undone ;  nothing  could  be  atoned 
for ;  nothing  could  be  explained  :  he  was  dead  in  a  gamb- 
ling place ;  and  had  left  no  message  for  her.  The  Ger- 
man consul  had  telegraphed  to  her  that  there  had  been 
no  papers  found  anywhere  except  the  official  declarations 
of  his  birth  and  rank. 

She  had  never  expected  anything,  and  yet  now  that  he 
was  dead,  in  unforgiving  and  unconfessing  silence,  she  felt 
as  if  some  added  hoplessness  settled  down  on  her.  She 
was  still  young  in  years,  she  had  the  kind  of  beauty 
which  never  wholly  passes  away,  she  had  wealth,  arid  she 
could  have  found  many  who  would  have  willingly  aided 
her  to  forget  and  make  her  life  anew.  But  she  had  no 
wish  to  do  so.  She  was  proud,  and  she  would  not  have 
returned  to  the  world  on  sufferance,  to  be  pointed  out  and 
whispered  about.  She  preferred  the  sombre,  mediaeval 


552  THE  MASSARENES. 

loneliness  of  her  Swabian  solitude,  where  the  household 
honored  and  the  peasantry  loved  her.  To  them  she  was 
the  Countess  Olga  zu  Lynar,  whom  they  had  served  and 
cherished  and  admired  ever  since  she  had  been  a  young 
child  riding  through  the  forests  and  climbing  up  the  braes. 
For  them  she  was  the  daughter  of  their  dear  and  revered 
lady ;  of  Prince  Khris  they  had  known  little.  Their  af- 
fection and  respect  were  feudal;  and  if  any  stranger  had 
said  an  injurious  word  of  her  in  the  woods  round  Schloss 
Lynar,  he  would  have  found  a  deep  and  a  sure  grave  in 
the  rushing  waters  of  their  mountain  streams. 

Here,  if  she  did  not  find  peace,  she  found  what  most 
resemble  it :  security,  repose,  and  uninterrupted  thought. 

The  death  of  her  father  rudely  disturbed  that  calmness, 
because  it  awakened  the  passion  and  sorrows  of  the  past 
as  a  single  rifleshot  would  wake  all  the  sleeping  echoes  of 
the  hills  and  woods. 

She  sat  beside  the  hearth,  a  boarhound  stretched  out  in 
the  warmth  at  her  feet ;  the  dull  grey  day  seeming  even- 
ing as  its  light  came  through  the  panes  of  the  deep  mul- 
lioned  windows.  Where  she  sat  was  the  old  Rittersaal  of 
the  castle,  with  the  armor,  the  shields,  and  the  banners  of 
a  hundred  forgotten  battles  ranged  down  the  oaken  walls. 
She  had  touched  nothing.  She  had  left  it  all  as  her  grand- 
father had  found  and  left  it.  It  was  gloomy,  but  she 
liked  the  gloom.  It  hurt  her  less  than  light  and  move- 
ment and  modern  luxuries,  which  were  in  such  cruelly 
ironical  mockery  of  her  own  sorrow. 

As  she  sat  thus,  her  long  cloth  fur-bordered  skirts  fall- 
ing about  her  feet,  and  the  fire  light  shining  on  her  face, 
the  dog  sprang  up  with  a  loud  rolling  bark  and  rushed 
from  the  hall.  She  heard  wheels  on  the  rarely  used  and 
lonely  drive,  which  passed  round  under  the  trees  to  the 
chief  entrance  on  the  other  side  of  the  house. 

Who  could  it  be?  No  one  ever  came  there  except 
some  man  of  business.  No  doubt  it  was  some  consul,  or 
some  lawyer,  come  to  speak  of  Prince  Khristof s  funeral, 
and  be  paid  for  it. 

But  she  heard  a  voice  say  in  the  outer  hall  beyond  in 
speaking  to  the  dog  : 

"  What  Oscar,  good  Oscar,  have  you  not  forgotten  ?  " 


THE  MAS8ARERES.  553 

The  sound  of  the  voice  made  her  heart  stand  still. 

It  was  eight  long  years  since  she  had  heard  it.  Was 
she  sane  ?  Was  she  in  her  senses  ?  Did  she  only  dream, 
awake,  as  she  had  so  often  dreamed  in  sleep  all  vainly? 

She  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  great  dark  hall  and  saw, 
as  through  a  mist,  a  person  enter.  She  saw  him  put  back 
the  servants  with  a  gesture,  she  saw  him  turn  and  close 
the  door  and  remain  motionless,  the  dog  leaping  upon 
him ;  but  she  saw  it  all  as  in  a  cloud,  as  though  many, 
many  miles  away,  and  she  felt  that  it  was  only  a  vision 
which  would  fade  and  pass,  like  so  many  other  visions  of 
her  lonely  nights. 

He  who  had  entered  hesitated  still  some  moments ;  then 
he  drew  nearer. 

"  Olga,"  he  said  timidly:  "  Olga,  can  you  forgive?  " 

She  fell  forward  insensible  into  his  outstretched  arms. 

She  had  dreamed  vainly  of  reunion  for  so  long ;  and  at 
last  the  dream  had  come  true. 


554  THE  MASSARENES. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

"  I'LL  marry  you,  Wuffie,"  said  Mouse,  three  days  later 
as  she  walked  along  a  secluded  alley  of  the  Casino  gar- 
dens, whilst  the  sun  sparkled  on  marble  balustrades  and 
glossy  orange  leaves.  "  No ;  pray  spare  me  those  ecstasies, 
and  for  goodness  sake  don't  use  German  endearments; 
it  sets  my  nerves  on  edge.  Listen  ;  there  is  a  condition  ; 
perhaps  you'll  set  your  back  up  at  it,  and  if  you  do  I  shall 
marry  somebody  else.  II  ny  a  que  Vembarras  du  choix" 

She  only  cared  for  Woffram's  consent  because  he  was 
the  only  one  amongst  her  adorers  who  could  be  brought 
with  decent  reason  to  accept  Vanderlin's  money  ;  the  only 
one  also  who  combined  the  poverty  which  could  be  bought 
with  the  high  rank  which  would  conceal  the  sale. 

Besides,  he  was,  as  she  said,  a  very  pretty  boy,  with  a 
Cupidon's  face  and  a  grenadier's  frame,  and  she  thought 
that  he  would  make  bon  mtnoge^  i.e.,  do  exactly  as  he  was 
told  to  do. 

She  knew  society  too  well  not  to  know  that  an  English 
duchess  is  a  really  much  greater  person  than  a  German 
Serenissime,  but  she  was  tired  of  being  Duchess  of  Otter- 
bourne  on  twopence-halfpenny  a  year,  and  being  under 
tutelage  and  coercion;  and  there  were  one  or  two  royal 
princesses  whom  she  especially  detested  to  whom  it  would 
be  amusing  to  be  cousin  by  marriage,  she  could  scratch 
them  so  deftly  with  the  softest  of  velvet  paws. 

On  the  whole,  she  thought  it  was  the  best  thing  to  do, 
so  she  spoke  coldly  and  rudely  to  the  young  prince  as  he 
walked  beside  her.  It  was  the  way  she  managed  her  men, 
and  it  had  always  succeeded — except  once. 

"  Every  wish  of  yours  is  law,"  said  Prince  Woffram, 
radiant  and  submissive,  for  he  was  extremely  in  love  and 
had  never  seen  any  way  of  inducing  his  syren  to  accept 
his  sword  and  his  title,  which  were  all  he  possessed  in  the 
world.  She  had  always  told  him  that  he  was  a  nice-look- 
ing boy  and  wore  a  pretty  uniform,  and  might  follow  her 


THE  MASSARENES.  555 

about  and  carry  her  wraps,  but  was  good  for  nothing  more 
serious. 

"  Let  us  walk  a  little  quicker,  and  don't  keep  kissing 
my  hand.  It  is  ridiculous,"  she  said,  with  some  acerbity, 
for  when  you  are  going  to  marry  a  man  it  is  always  best 
not  to  be  too  civil  to  him.  "  Now  listen  here.  Your 
greatuncle  Khris  is  dead.  I  was  with  him  when  he  died. 
I  persuaded  him  to  do  an  act  of  very  tardy  justice  to  his 
daughter.  I  knew  the  whole  story  long  ago,  and  that  was 
why  I  went  to  see  him.  I  wanted  to  try  and  persuade 
him  to  undo  the  harm  he  had  done." 

The  young  man  was  silent.  He  was  surprised  and 
could  not  grasp  her  meaning,  for  he  knew  that  it  must  be 
something  other  than  what  her  mere  words  expressed. 

"You  never  knew  Olga,  did  you?"  he  said,  rather 
stupidly. 

"  No,"  said  Mouse,  keeping  both  hands  in  her  muff.  "I 
never  knew  her,  but  I  have  always  pitied  her  profoundly, 
and  I  knew  her  wicked  old  father  could  set  things  right 
if  he  chose,  for  once  he  almost  confessed  as  much  to  me. 
But  all  this  does  not  matter  to  you.  It  is  an  old  story, 
and  they  are  now  going  to  live  happy  ever  afterwards  like 
people  in  a  fairy-tale.  That  is  their  idea  of  felicity ;  it 
wouldn't  be  mine.  If  }^ou  would  believe  it,  that  man  has 
never  cared  about  anybody  else.  It  seems  impossible,  but 
it  is  so.  I  suppose  men  of  business  are  not  like  other 
people." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  the  young  prince  humbly, 
and  in  great  perplexity.  "  Who  are  going  to  live  happily 
for  ever?  Who  are  you  speaking  of?  Please  tell  me 
more." 

"  Nobody  wants  you  to  understand — you  are  to  listen," 
said  Mouse,  with  her  brilliant  eyes  flashing  on  him  above 
her  sable  collar.  "  I  tell  you  I  was  with  your  greatuncle 
when  he  died,  and  he  gave  me  his  confession  to  take  to 
Adrian  Vanderlin,  and  the  proof  of  the  false  witness  which 
he  had  bribed  people  to  bear  against  his  daughter,  because 
he  was  so  angry  that  she  did  so  little  to  get  her  husband's 
money  for  him  (when  you  think  of  it,  that  was  natural 
enough,  for  one  don't  give  one's  daughter  into  the  bour- 
geoise  without  expecting  to  be  paid  for  it).  He  played 


556  THE  MASSARENE8. 

lago's  part,  you  know,  and  Vanderlin  was  jealous,  and 
your  cousin  Olga  was  too  proud  to  clear  herself,  and  so 
they  were  made  very  miserable  and  separated.  Well,  this 
is  what  he  did  and  what  he  confessed,  and  if  I  had  not 
been  there  he  would  have  had  the  papers  burned,  for  he 
was  a  bad,  vindictive  old  man  to  the  last." 

This  she  said  with  great  sincerity  and  emphasis,  for  she 
saw  in  memory  the  glare  of  those  steel-blue  eyes  in  the 
yellow,  drawn  face. 

"But  why  should  you  have  been  the  intermediary?" 
asked  the  young  man,  bewildered.  "  Why  did  not  poor 
old  Khris  send  to  my  uncle  Ernst  (his  nephew,  you  know), 
who  has  always  remained  a  devoted  friend  of  Olga's?" 

44 1  don't  know  why  he  didn't.  I  know  he  did  not,"  she 
replied  irritably,  for  she  was  not  disposed  to  submit  to 
cross-examination,  and  she  had  by  this  time  come  to  be- 
lieve in  her  narrative  as  actual  fact.  "  I  was  there ;  and 
he  was  mortally  ill.  I  doubt  if  anyone  else  would  have 
had  patience  to  unravel  his  confused  confessions." 

44  Well?  "  said  the  young  prince  anxiously. 

44  Well,  I  have  done  Vanderlin  an  enormous  service," 
she  continued.  44  That  is  to  say,  with  his  peculiar  ideas 
of  fidelity,  he  thinks  it  enormous.  It  is  the  4  one  man  one 
vote'  theory,  don't  you  know.  4One  life,  one  love' — 
that  sort  of  thing.  One  has  read  of  it.  Great  bosh,  but 
still — no,  pray  don't  go  on  like  that  or  you  will  bore  me 
to  extinction.  Listen.  You  and  I  can't  marry  as  we  are. 
We  are  as  poor  as  church  mice.  My  people  won't  and 
your  people  can't  do  anything  for  us.  But  Vanderlin  will." 

44  Vanderlin  !"  exclaimed  Wuffie.  He  was  dismayed 
and  horrified  ;  he  was  a  young  man  of  easy  principles,  but 
there  are  some  scruples  which  women  dance  over  like  a 
stool  at  a  cotillon,  and  which  men  jib  at  violently  as  their 
hunters  do  at  brick  walls. 

44  If  your  pater  ordered  you  to  marry  a  royal  schoolgirl, 
you'd  take  her  dower  fast  enough,"  she  continued;  "and 
yet  what  disgraceful  sources  it  would  come  from — opium- 
taxes,  and  gin-palace-taxes,  and  dog-taxes,  and  poor  men's 
sixpences  and  shillings,  and  nailmakers'  and  glassworkers' 
pennies,  and  real  coinage,  as  one  may  say,  out  of  vice  and 
misery  and  want." 


THE  MASSARENE8.  55*7 

"  You  can't  be  a  republican — a  socialist?"  cried  Prince 
Wolfram  in  horror. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  or  not.  I  dare  say  I  may 
be.  Anybody  would  be  to  see  a  little  German  princeling, 
with  twopence-halfpenny  a  year,  and  whose  granduncle 
has  just  died  without  money  to  pay  his  doctor's  bill,  giv- 
ing himself  airs  as  if  he  were  somebody." 

"How  dreadfully  unbind  you  are,"  murmured  the 
young  man. 

"  If  you  don't  like  home-truths,  you  can  go  and  amuse 
yourself  anywhere  you  like,"  she  replied,  in  a  severe  tone, 
her  hands  folded  inside  her  muff,  and  her  coldest  and  most 
resolute  expression  on  her  face. 

His  heart  sank  into  his  boots.  He  walked  on  beside 
her,  crestfallen  and  conquered. 

"  I  was  quite  frank  with  Cocky  beforehand,  and  I  am 
quite  frank  with  you.  It  is  much  the  best  way.  There 
are  no  disappointments  and  no  recriminations." 

Prince  Woffram  did  not  reply.  He  did  not  care  to  fill 
the  role  which  had  suited  Cocky  so  admirably,  and  he 
was,  moreover,  blindly  in  love  with  her.  Men  in  love  do 
not  like  to  be  mere  lay-figures.  But  he  was  weak  by 
disposition,  and  both  his  poverty  and  passion  made  him 
weaker  still. 

"Vanderlin  will  do  whatever  we  wish,"  said  Mouse 
sharply,  with  an  accent  of  inflexible  authority.  "  He  is 
made  of  millions,  as  Boo  says,  and  he  is  immensely  grate- 
ful to  me.  He  wants  to  give  me  half  his  fortune,  but  of 
course  he  can't  give  it  to  me,  so  I  told  him  that  I  was  go- 
ing to  marry  you,  and  that  he  might  give  it  you ;  quite 
secretly,  you  understand,  and  you  will  always  consider 
that  it  is  mine.  That  must  be  very  distinctly  understood." 

The  young  man  was  silent ;  he  was,  indeed,  overwhelmed 
with  astonishment  and  confusion.  It  seemed  odd  to  hear 
that  another  man  had  been  told  of  her  intention  to  marry 
him  before  he  himself  had  been  informed  of  his  future 
happiness ;  moreover,  there  was  something  about  the  pro- 
jected arrangement  which  struck  jarringly  on  his  not  very 
sensitive  conscience  and  appalled  him,  and  his  proposed 
benefactor  had  divorced  a  woman  of  his  race ! 

He  stammered  some  German  phrases,  embarrassed  and 


558  THE  MASSARENES. 

apprehensive  of  her  displeasure,  for  he  was  afraid  of  her, 
keenly  and  childishly  afraid. 

"  Don't  use  that  ridiculous  language  !  "  said  Mouse,  with 
a  boundless  scorn  for  the  mother  tongue  of  Goethe  and  of 
Kant.  "  Have  you  understood  all  I  have  been  saying  ? 
If  you  accept  what  Vanderlin  will  do  for  us — and  he  will 
do  a  great  deal — I  will  marry  you.  If  you  won't,  I  shall 
never  see  you  any  more.  Pray  make  no  mistake  about 
that." 

"  But  if  you  love  me " 

"  I  never  said  I  loved  you.  I  don't  love  people.  I  like 
you  in  a  way,  and  I  will  marry  you  on  certain  conditions, 
but  I  will  not  marry  you,  my  good  Wuffie,  to  live  on  an 
empty  title  and  the  pay  of  a  German  lieutenant  of  cuiras- 
siers. Not  if  I  know  it !  I  won't  even  enter  German}^ 
except  for  the  month  at  Homburg  when  everybody's  there. 
Thanks — I  have  seen  your  father's  court,  once  in  the  duchy 
of  Karstein-Lowenthal,  and  very  often  in  the  duchy  of 
Gerolstein ! " 

She  laughed  cruelly,  not  relaxing  her  quick  elastic  step 
over  the  smooth  gravel  between  the  palms  and  the  orange- 
trees.  She  intended  to  marry  him,  and  she  had  no  doubt 
whatever  about  the  result  of  the  conversation.  Men  were 
like  horses.  Ride  them  with  a  firm  hand  and  you  could 
put  them  at  any  timber  you  chose. 

Prince  Woffram's  face  flushed  painfully  ;  the  jeer  at 
his  father's  court  hurt  him.  As  far  as  he  could  feel 
offence  with  her  he  felt  it  then,  as  her  clear  unkind 
laughter  rippled  on  the  wintry  air. 

"  You  are  very  rough  on  me,"  he  said,  humbly,  in  Eng- 
lish. "  I  am  poor — we  are  poor — I  know  that ;  but  hon- 
orable poverty- 
Mouse  turned  her  face  to  him,  withering  scorn  flashing 
from  her  sapphire  eyes  upon  him. 

"  Honorable  poverty  has  just  died  in  the  person  of  Prince 
Khristof  of  Karstein-Lowenthal,  and  he  had  not  a  penny 
to  pay  his  laundress,  and  his  lodging,  and  his  doctor,  and 
his  grave  I  Adrian  Vanderlin  paid  for  all  of  them." 

She  said  it  cruelty,  triumphantly,  with  her  silvery  laugh 
sounding  shriller  than  usual. 

The  young  man  grew  redder  still  with  anger  and  shame 


THfi  MASSARENES.  559 

commingled.  His  eyes  were  downcast.  He  had  no  reply 
ready  as  he  walked  beside  her  down  the  lonely  alley. 

She  saw  that  she  had  wounded  and  offended  him. 

"  Come,  Wuffie,  be  reasonable,"  she  said,  in  another 
tone.  "  You  know  well  enough  that  I  shall  no  more 
marry  you  to  remain  penniless  than  I  shall  marry  one  of 
the  croupiers  in  the  Casino.  If  you  were  going  to  ally 
yourself  with  a  royal  princess,  you  would  see  nothing  de- 
grading in  living  on  her  allowance  allotted  to  her  by  what 
is  called  the  State,  that  is,  taken  out  of  the  taxes  paid  by 
the  public  on  their  sugar,  and  tea,  and  cheese,  and  cloth- 
ing, and  yet,  when  you  come  to  analyze  it,  that  is  not  very 
creditable.  It  is  much  more  creditable  to  take  what  an 
immensely  rich  financier  never  will  miss,  and  offers,  de 
bon  cceur,  to  acquit  himself  of  a  debt  of  gratitude ;  and 
since  you  are  so  fond  of  your  family,  he  is  your  cousin  by 
marriage — at  least  he  was  and  he  will  be  again,  for  he 
means  to  re-marry  his  lost  angel.  My  dear  Wuffie,  pray 
don't  mind  my  saying  so,  but  German  princes  are  living 
on  their  wives'  dowers  all  over  the  world  by  the  hundred. 
It  is  their  metier." 

He  still  did  not  answer.  He  looked  on  the  ground  as 
he  walked.  There  was  sufficient  truth  in  what  she  said 
for  his  national  and  family  pride  to  wince  under  it.  He 
knew  that  if  he  looked  at  her  he  should  consent  to 
this  abominable,  indefensible,  unworthy  act  to  which  she 
tempted  him.  He  kept  his  eyes  on  the  ground  ;  the  color 
burnt  hotly  in  his  cheeks.  She  was  silent  too  a  few  mo- 
ments. Then  she  stopped  short  in  her  walk,  forcing  him 
to  stop  also,  and  faced  him,  her  hands  in  her  muff  and  her 
face  very  resolute  and  insolent,  with  a  contemptuous  smile 
on  her  lips. 

"  My  dear  Wuffie,"  she  said  with  sovereign  contempt, 
"you  can't  suppose  that  I  was  going  to  marry  you  for 
yourself,  do  you?" 

The  young  man  colored,  much  mortified.  He  had  sup- 
posed so. 

"  You  are  a  very  pretty  boy,  but  one  doesn't  marry  for 
good  looks,"  she  said  in  the  same  tone.  "  One  marries  for 
bread  and  butter.  Neither  you  nor  I  have  got  it;  but  to- 
gether we  can  get  it." 


560  THE  MA8SARENES. 

"But — but "  stammered  Prince  Woffram  ;  he  knew 

that  he  was  being  tempted  to  what  was  disgraceful ;  to 
what,  judged  by  any  court  of  honor,  would  brand  him  as 
unworthy  to  wear  his  sword. 

"  Can  you  really  think,  my  dear  boy,"  she  said  with  a 
cruel,  slighting  little  laugh,  "  that  I  shall  marry  you  for 
the  mere  sake  of  going,  as  the  wife  of  the  sixth  son  of  a 
six-hundredth-time-removed  cousin  of  the  emperor,  in  the 
defiler-cour  at  Berlin?  I  can  assure  you  that  such  a  pros- 
pect would  not  attract  me  for  a  moment.  I  have  no  desire 
to  figure  in  the  Salle  once  in  ten  years,  and  make  jam  and 
knit  stockings  like  a  true  German  fiirstin  all  the  rest  of 
my  life.  4  Kuche,  kirche,  kinder,'  was  riot  said  by  your  Im- 
perial relative  of  me.  If  you  accept  my  conditions  I  will 
become  your  wife,  but  if  you  do  not  there  are  many  others 
who  will.  I  like  you  very  much,  Wuffie,  but  I  can  live 
extremely  well  without  you,  my  dear  boy." 

He  strove  to  keep  his  eyes  away  from  her  face.  He 
looked  at  the  trees,  at  the  clouds,  at  the  sea,  then  at  the 
ground  again.  He  knew  that  he  was  being  led  to  his  own 
undoing,  to  his  disgrace  in  his  own  eyes,  to  the  abandon- 
ment of  self-respect  and  independence  and  manhood  ;  he 
knew  that  he  would  become  Vanderlin's  pensioner  and  her 
slave,  that  he  would  fall  in  his  own  sight  to  a  lower  place 
than  was  held  by  one  of  the  croupiers  raking  in  gold  at 
the  tables  yonder.  He  tried  to  keep  his  eyes  from  her 
face.  He  had  had  a  pious  mother ;  he  prayed  for  strength. 

"  Look  at  me,  Wuffie  !  "  she  said  imperiously. 

The  delicate  scent  of  the  perfumed  muff  was  wafted  to 

his  nostrils  like  a  puff  of  incense  from  the  altars  of  the 

1  Venusberg.     He  lifted  his  eyes  and  saw  hers,  with  their 

challenge,  their   mockery,  their  malice,  their  command. 

He  was  lost. 

A  few  minutes  later  Boo,  who  had  been  playing  near, 
ran  down  the  alley  at  a  headlong  pace  toward  them,  and 
lifted  her  rosebud  mouth  to  be  kissed. 

44  You  are  going  to  be  my  new  pappy,  Wuffie  !  "  she  said, 
in  her  sweetest  and  most  innocent  manner.  "  I've  had 
two  ;  but  they're  both  dead,  and  I  shall  like  you  the  best 
of  the  three,  because  you're  so  pretty,  Wuffie." 

And  she  sprang  up  into  his  arms,  and  laughed  and  beat 


THE  MASSARENE8.  561 

him  about  the  eyes  with  a  bunch  of  violets,  and  so  dazzled 
and  blinded  him  that  he  had  no  time  to  ask  himself — who 
had  been  the  two  of  whom  she  spoke  ? 

Jack  had  a  letter  a  month  later  which  astonished  and 
annoyed  him.  He  read  it  sitting  in  a  favorite  nook  in  one 
of  the  embrasures  of  the  hall  windows  at  Faldon,  with 
dogs  between  his  knees,  at  his  feet,  under  his  arms,  and 
behind  his  back ;  young  frolicsome  foolish  dogs,  big  and 
little,  who  were  the  object  of  Ossian's  deepest  scorn. 

The  letter  was  from  Boo,  and  dated  from  a  fashionable 
hotel  in  the  Rue  Castiglione. 

" Mammy  says  you  are  to  come  over"  the  note  began  ab- 
ruptly. "  She's  writing  to  your  gardjens.  She  is  going  to 
marry  Wuffie.  Wuffie  is  nicer  than  anybody  as  was  before. 
He  has  such  a  beautiful  white  coat,  and  is  all  chaines,  and 
orders^  and  swords  that  clatter,  that  is  when  he  puts  'em  on  ; 
when  they're  off  he  don't  look  more  nor  any  other  man  ;  but 
she  means  to  make  him  give  up  soldiering.  She  says  you 
are  to  come  over.  You  won't  carry  her  traine  'cos  people  as 
are  widders  don't  have  traines  when  they  marry,  and  besides 
you're  too  old.  But  that  don't  matter.  I  shall  have  a  beau- 
tiful frock  and  Wuffie  has  gived  me  a  tuckoiss  belt.  Don't 
fret  about  your  dress.  They'll  dress  you  here.  It's  on  the 
third.  Mammy  sends  you  one  hundred  thousand  kisses  ;  me 
too.  Au  revoir,  Auf  weidersehn." 

For  Boo,  a  true  daughter  of  her  time,  could  write  cor- 
rectly all  languages  except  her  own. 

This  letter  wras  painful  to  its  recipient.  He  sat  looking 
gloomily  out  at  the  glades  of  the  park  where  wild  winds 
from  St.  .George's  Channel  were  swaying  the  great  trees 
and  driving  the  Faldon  river  into  scurrying  clouds  of 
brown  foam. 

"  I'll  take  it  to  him,"  he  thought.  He  had  learned  to 
know  that  his  uncle  Ronnie  was  a  rock  of  refuge.  He 
got  up  as  well  as  he  could  for  being  embraced  by  all  his 
dogs  at  once,  and  knocked  down  by  a  Newfoundland  twice 
in  excess  of  adoration. 

He  found  Hurstmanceaux  at  the  other  end  of  the  house 
engaged  in  reading  his  own  correspondence  of  the  morning. 

36 


562  THE  MASSARENES. 

"  If  you  please  is  this  true  ?  " 

"  Is  what  true  ?  " 

"  That  my  mother  is  to  marry." 

He  held  out  his  sister's  letter. 

"  I  don't  know  if  it  means  that.  If  it  don't  mean  that 
I  can't  tell  what  it  means,"  he  added  despondently. 

"  Your  mother  marries,  yes,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  tak- 
ing the  note,  "  and  this  letter  says  you  are  to  go  to  Paris. 
Do  you  wish  to  go  ?  " 

Jack's  fair  face  grew  almost  stern. 

" 1  will  never  go  to  her,"  he  said  with  more  decision 
than  could  have  been  expected  from  his  years. 

"  Make  no  rash  vows,  my  boy,"  said  Ronald.  "  But  as 
regards  your  appearance  at  this  marriage  it  is  not  neces- 
sary ;  I  think  you  are  right  not  to  go." 

"  I  would  not  go  if  they  dragged  me  with  ropes  through 
the  sea  from  Dublin  Bay  to  Calais,"  said  Jack;  "  and  up 
the  Seine,"  he  added  with  a  geographical  afterthought. 

"  She  killed  him,  and  she  has  forgotten  him,"  thought 
her  son  as  he  went  out  with  his  dogs  into  the  bare  March 
avenues  of  the  park.  Jack  did  not  forget. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  at  the  brilliant  wedding  cele- 
brated at  the  English  and  German  embassies,  and  at- 
tended by  many  great  persons  of  royal  and  noble  families, 
there  was  not  present  either  the  eldest  brother  or  the 
eldest  son  of  the  lady  who  became  H.S.H.  Princess  Wolf- 
ram of  Karstein-Lowenthal. 


THE  MASSARENES.  563 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

IN  the  following  autumn  Margaret  Massarene  caught 
cold.  It  was  a  slight  ailment  at  first,  and  if  she  had  been 
the  woman  she  had  been  in  North  Dakota  she  would  have 
soon  thrown  off  the  chill.  But  she  had  experienced  in  her 
own  person  the  perils  with  which  she  had  once  said  her 
William  was  menaced — her  love  of  the  good  things  of  the 
table  had  affected  her  liver  and  her  digestive  organs. 
She  had  never  stinted  herself,  as  she  had  expressed  it ;  in- 
deed, she  had  overeaten  herself  continually  ever  since 
that  first  wondrous  day  when  her  man  had  said  to  her: 
"  The  pile's  made,  old  woman  ;  we'll  go  home  and  spend 
it" 

All  the  guinea-fowls,  and  pheasants,  and  oysters,  and 
turtle,  and  anchovies,  and  capons,  and  grouse,  and  prawns, 
and  whitebait  which  had  been  immolated  on  the  altar  of 
her  appetite,  had  their  posthumous  vengeance.  Riche- 
mont,  who  had  loathed  her,  had  helped  with  his  exquisite 
inventions  to  hasten  her  undoing.  She  was  naturally 
very  strong  and  of  good  constitution,  but  the  incessant  eat- 
ing which  prevails  in  England,  and  which  kills  nine-tenths 
of  its  gentle  people,  had  been  too  much  for  her.  Annual 
visits  to  German  baths,  to  Carlsbad,  and  to  Vichy  had 
warded  off  the  evil,  but  could  not  wholly  avert  it.  When 
she  got  cold,  the  over-tasked  liver  and  the  failing  gastric 
juices  struck  work  ;  the  lungs  were  already  feeble  ;  and 
before  a  month  was  over,  after  she  had  felt  a  chill  as  she 
came  from  church,  she  was  declared  by  her  attendant 
physicians  to  be  beyond  their  aid. 

She  had  always  been  a  meek  and  patient  woman,  ac- 
cepting whatever  came  to  her,  the  bitter  with  the  sweet, 
and  she  did  not  rebel  now,  though  the  loss  of  life  was 
hard  to  her. 

"  Just  when  I  was  in  the  straw-yard,  as  it  were.  Com- 
fortable, like  an  old  horse  as  is  past  work  and  has  had  a 
good  owner,  not  as  many  on  'em  has,"  she  murmured.  It 
seemed  an  unkind  disposition  of  Providence.  "But 


564  THE  MASSARENES. 

there  !  we  don't  know  what's  best  for  us  !  "  she  said,  with 
that  submissive  obedience  to  the  frown  of  fate  which  she 
had  shown  so  long  to  the  scowl  of  William  Massarene. 
Her  daughter  was  more  sad  than  she. 

"If  I  had  only  really  loved  her  once  for  five  minutes  ! " 
she  thought.  But  she  had  not.  She  had  never  felt  a 
single  thrill  of  those  affections  of  which  the  world  is,  or 
affects  to  be,  so  full. 

She  was  devotion  itself  in  attendance  on  her  mother — 
watched  by  her  night  and  day,  and  addressed  her  with 
exquisite  gentleness.  But  it  was  pity,  sorrow,  compas- 
sion, regret,  all  other  kind  and  tender  emotions  which 
moved  her,  but  amongst  them  there  was  no  love.  All  the 
other  gods  will  come  if  called,  but  riot  love  in  any  of  his 
guises. 

"  Don't  ye  try  to  feign  what  you  don't  feel,"  said  Mar- 
garet Massarene.  "  You've  no  feigning  in  you,  my  dear, 
and  why  should  you  try?  You  was  took  away  from  me 
when  you  were  a  little  thing  of  five,  and  you  was  always 
kept  away  to  be  made  a  lady  of  (and  that  they  did).  It 
stood  to  reason,  as  when  you  see  me  all  them  years  after, 
you  couldn't  have  no  feeling  for  me.  I  was  nought  to  you 
but  a  stranger,  and  I  saw  as  my  way  of  talk  hurt  you." 

Katherine  wept,  leaning  her  head  down  on  her  mother's 
broad,  pallid  hand. 

"Don't  ye  fret,  Kathleen!  Why  should  you  fret?" 
said  the  sick  woman.  "  You  have  no  thin'  to  blame  your- 
self for — toward  me,  at  any  rate.  I  did  think  as  'twas 
your  duty  to  respect  your  father  more  in  his  life,  and  to 
keep  his  great  work  together  when  he  was  gone.  But 
there  !  you'd  your  own  way  of  lookin'  at  things,  and 
you're  not  to  be  blamed  for  that." 

Then  her  weak  voice  failed  her,  and  she  lay  looking 
out,  through  the  branches  of  an  acacia-tree  beyond  the 
window,  to  the  silvery  line  of  the  sea. 

"  I  did  according  to  my  light,  mother,"  said  Katherine 
in  a  whisper.  "  I  may  have  been  in  error." 

"  Ay,  my  dear,"  said  Margaret ;  "  that's  what  all  you 
clever,  eddicated  people  do.  You  make  a  law  for  your- 
selves,  and  then  you  say  you  follow  it  !  " 

It  might  be  so. 


THfi  MASSARENES.  565 

What  had  seemed  the  voice  of  conscience  might  have 
been  the  voice  of  vanity.  She  could  not  tell.  Perhaps 
this  poor,  simple,  vulgar  woman  had  been  more  in  the 
right  than  she. 

Some  hours  passed ;  one  physician  remained  in  tha 
house,  another  came  and  went ;  nothing  was  to  be  done. 
The  human  machine  was  worn  out ;  it  had  been  ill-fed 
too  long  and  then  over- fed ;  its  delicate  and  intricate 
mechanism  rebelled,  waxed  feeble,  gave  way  altogether. 

44  I'd  hev  liked  another  ten  years  of  it,"  she  said  regret- 
fully. "'Twas  a  holiday  like,  the  nice  easy  life.  And 
you  won't  ever  know,  my  dear,  how  hard  I  worked — over 
there." 

Then  she  cried  feebly  but  sadly,  thinking  of  those  wear- 
ing and  cruel  days  in  Dakota,  in  burning  heat  and  freez- 
ing cold,  when  she  had  worked  so  hard,  and  of  this  pleas- 
ant "  lady's  life  "  which  she  had  now  to  leave,  which  had 
come  too  late  to  do  much  more  than  cause  her  such  re- 
gret. Katherine's  head  was  bowed  down  upon  the  bed. 

44  And  you  had  no  reward  !  " 

44  Oh,  yes,  my  dear,  I  had  my  reward !  Don't  ever  go 
for  to  say  otherwise  !  I  see  your  father  a  great  man  and 
shaken  by  the  hand  by  princes  and  honored  by  everybody 
— except  you."  Then  her  mind  wandered  a  little,  and 
she  said  many  things  about  her  man's  renown,  and  his 
virtues,  and  his  attainments,  and  the  height  to  which  he 
had  risen.  "  Princes  at  his  own  table,"  she  murmured. 
44  In  his  life  and  his  death  they  honored  him.  Look  at 
his  grave,  piled  up  with  flowers — nothin'  in  the  Abbey 
ever  grander." 

Once  she  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  took  hold  of 
her  daughter's  arm. 

44  Look  you,  child — divorce  is  as  easy  got  out  there  as 
berries  in  the  fields  in  summer ;  a  rich  man  can  put  away 
his  wife  like  an  old  glove,  and  he  never  did  that — never  ! 
I  was  an  eyesore  to  him,  but  he  kept  me  by  him,  and  he 
had  me  dressed  and  served  like  a  queen.  He  was  a  God- 
fearing man,  was  William." 

All  her  memory  was  of  him,  of  the  brute  who  had 
scarcely  ever  thrown  her  a  kind  word  in  all  the  forty 
years  that  she  had  dwelt  beside  him. 


586  THE  MASSAEENES. 

"  He  was  a  great  man,  a  very  great  man,  was  your 
father,"  she  repeated.  "  He'd  have  died  a  peer,  and  I 
dare  say  a  minister  too,  if  that  shot  hadn't  killed  him  on 
his  threshold." 

Her  mind  was  little  with  her  living  daughter  beside  her  ; 
it  was  almost  entirely  with  the  dead  man  who,  when  they 
had  both  been  young,  had  stepped  out  beside  her  through 
the  green  grass  of  Kilrathy  to  conquer  the  world — and 
had  done  it. 

"He  was  a  great  man,  was  William,"  she  said  as  she 
closed  her  eyes.  She  looked  at  her  worn  fingers,  on 
which  the  flesh  hung  in  folds,  and  turned  the  plain  brass 
wedding  ring  feebly  round  and  round  ;  the  ring  that  was 
now  covered  by  a  diamond  guard. 

"'Twas  a  fine  mornin'  as  he  put  it  there,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  The  sun  was  shinin'  and  the  dew  sparklin',  and 
I  mind  me  of  a  little  tit  as  sat  on  a  wild  bit  o'  sweetbriar 
against  the  church  door.  'Tis  a  sweet  feelin',  Kathleen, 
when  ye  gives  yerself  for  a  man  for  good.  But  ye  don't 
care  about  them  feelin's.  You're  too  high  and  too  cold." 

"  Oh,  not  cold  !     Oh,  mother — no,  not  cold  !  " 

"  Well,  you're  somethin'  as  comes  to  the  same  thing," 
said  Margaret  wearily,  and  lay  still.  The  light  of  the  in- 
tellect must  always  seem  cold  as  Arctic  light  to  those 
who  only  know  the  mellow  warmth  of  the  sunshine  of  the 
heart. 

Her  daughter  remained  leaning  against  the  bed  upon 
her  knees.  She  felt  as  if  so  much  atonement  were  due 
from  her,  and  yet—  -  ?  Perhaps  she  should  have  remem- 
bered more  the  excuse  which  lay  in  society  for  the  faults 
of  her  father. 

Society  says  to  the  successful  man  :  "  You  have  done 
well  and  wisely ;  you  have  thought  of  yourself  alone 
from  your  cradle."  Society  offers  the  premium  of  its 
flattery  and  its  rewards  to  the  man  who  succeeds,  without 
regard  to  the  means  he  has  employed.  Provided  he 
avoids  scandals  which  become  public,  there  would  be  ob- 
vious impertinence  in  any  investigation  into  his  methods. 
Society  is  only  occupied  with  the  results.  When  he  suc- 
ceeds his  qualities  become  virtues,  as  when  a  vine  bears 
fruit  the  chemicals  which  it  has  absorbed  during  its  cul- 


THE '  MASSAEENES.  Ef>7 

ture  become  grapes.  Public  subscriptions  will  become 
accreditated  to  him  as  divine  charities ;  if  he  write  his 
name  down  for  a  large  sum  at  a  banquet  at  which  a  royal 
duke  or  a  lord  mayor  presides,  to  enrich  a  hospital  or  en- 
dow an  asylum,  he  need  fear  no  demands  as  to  how  he 
lias  gained  his  vast  capital.  The  man  who  succeeds 
knows  that  his  sins  will  be  ignored  because  he  has  ac- 
quired greatly,  as  hers  were  forgiven  to  Mary  Magdalene 
because  she  had  loved  greatly.  Can  we  blame  a  man  be- 
cause his  morality  is  not  higher  than  that  of  the  world  in 
general?  "  Get  money,  honestly  if  you  can,  but  get 
money,"  says  society,  and  when  he  has  got  it,  if  it  has 
been  got  in  quantities  sufficiently  large,  sovereigns  and 
princes  will  visit  him  and  require  nothing  more  from  him 
than  the  fact  arid  proof  of  its  possession.  Her  father  had 
not  created  the  worship  of  the  golden  calf;  he  had  only 
availed  himself  of  it ;  he  had  only  set  up  the  animal  in  his 
own  kailyard  and  opened  his  gates. 

Great  qualities  he  had  undoubtedly  possessed ;  if  they 
were  not  lovable  or  altruistic,  or  such  as  pleased  the  strict 
moralist  or  the  poetic  philanthropist,  they  were  such  as 
are  alone  appreciated  in  an  age  which  would  send  the 
Nazarene  to  a  treadmill  and  the  Stagyrite  to  a  maison 
centrale  if  they  were  living  now. 

Had  she  done  wrong  not  to  value  them  more  ?  No  ;  she 
could  not  think  so. 

u  He  was  a  great  man,  my  dear,  and  he  had  a  right  to 
do  as  he  liked  with  his  own,"  her  mother  murmured 
again,  faithful  to  the  last,  like  a  dog,  to  the  hand  which, 
though  it  had  struck  her  many  a  brutal  blow,  had  been 
her  master's. 

44  He  was  a  great  man,  was  William,"  she  said  again  ; 
and  then  her  mind  wandered  away  to  the  green  wet  pas- 
tures of  Kilrathy,  and  she  thought  she  was  a  dairy-girl 
again  with  bare  feet  and  kilted  skirt,  and  she  called  the 
cows  to  the  milking  :  "  Come,  my  pretties,  come— Blos- 
som and  Bell  and  Buttercup.  Come  ;  'tis  time."  Then 
her  hands  moved  feebly,  as  though  they  pulled  the  udders, 
and  she  smiled  a  little  and  would  have  laughed,  but  she 
had  no  strength.  "I'm  home  again,"  she  murmured ;  and 
then  life  left  her. 


568  THE  MASSAEENES. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

IT  was  a  gusty,  wild,  and  cloudy  morning  at  Faldon 
some  days  later,  and  Hurstmanceaux  sat  in  his  library 
reading  a  communication  which  he  had  received  from  the 
head  of  the  Government.  The  epistle,  which  was  written 
by  the  premier  himself,  offered  him  the  governorship  of  a 
very  important  colony.  The  letter  was  extremely  com- 
plimentary, and  there  was  no  possible  reason  to  doubt  its 
sincerity.  It  urged  upon  him  the  sacrifice  of  his  inde- 
pendence to  the  welfare  of  his  country,  and  hinted  that  as 
years  passed  on  it  became  time  to  abandon  certain  eccen- 
tricities of  opinion  and  habits  of  isolation.  Hurstman- 
ceaux read  it  with  the  attention  which  the  position  of  its 
writer  demanded ;  but  he  did  not  waste  many  minutes  in 
its  consideration.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  such 
offers  had  been  pressed  on  him.  The  independence  of  his 
character  was  so  well  known,  and  his  principles  so  much 
respected  by  all  men,  that  his  accession  to  the  governing 
ranks  would  have  been  an  increase  of  strength  to  those 
who  were  in  office.  But  they  had  never  been  able  to 
tempt  him  to  forsake  private  for  public  life.  He  now 
wrote  a  very  courteous  but  most  decided  refusal,  express- 
ing his  sense  of  the  compliment  paid  to  him,  sealed  it 
with  his  signet  ring,  and  sat  still  awhile  at  his  writing- 
table  thinking. 

"  I  have  never  yet  been  in  the  scramble  for  the  loaves 
and  fishes,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  I  shall  not  begin 
now.  He  will  find  men  enough  and  to  spare  who  have 
outrun  the  constable,  or  who  want  handles  to  their  names, 
and  who  will  be  delighted  to  go  to  the  nether  world  and 
play  at  pseudo-sovereignty.  Faldon  and  my  other  poor 
places  are  kingdoms  enough  for  me,  small  ones  though 
they  be ;  and  Jack's  active  mind  is  colony  enough  to  cul- 
tivate." 

Whatever  else  Jack  might  be,  he  was  half  a  Courcy,  and 
must  be  brought  up  to  be  a  man  and  a  gentleman. 


THE  'MASSARENES.  569 

At  that  moment  Jack  came  in  followed  by  his  dogs  of 
all  sizes,  on  whom  Ossian,  lying  in  a  reading-chair,  opened 
a  contemptuous  eye  ;  Jack  had  permission  to  run  free  of 
the  library  as  he  liked.  He  had  now  a  morning  paper  in 
his  hand  which  he  held  out  to  his  uncle. 

"  Mr.  Adeane  wishes  me  to  ask  you,  please,  if  this  is 
true,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  paragraph  marked  by  his 
tutor. 

Hurstmanceaux  glanced  at  it.  It  announced  his  accept- 
ance of  the  Australian  governorship.  His  brows  con- 
tracted in  displeasure.  "  Nothing  could  be  less  true,"  he 
answered.  "  It  is  true  that  the  appointment  has  been  of- 
fered to  ine.  But  tell  Adeane  I  decline  it.  Leave  the 
paper  here,  dear.  I  will  send  a  contradiction." 

Jack  went  out  by  one  of  the  windows  opening  on  a  ter- 
race as  he  had  entered,  his  canine  courtiers  leaping  about 
him,  and  Hurstmanceaux  took  up  the  journal  to  see  the 
date  of  the  paragraph. 

It  was  a  journal  of  fashion  and  politics  ;  the  statement 
which  concerned  him  was  in  a  column  containing  other 
items  of  news ;  the  name  in  one  of  these  caught  his  eye  ; 
he  read  that  the  wife  of  William  Massarene  was  dead  at 
her  villa  at  Bournemouth. 

When  Katherine  Massarene  closed  her  mother's  eyes 
she  felt  both  regret  and  remorse.  Why  had  she  not  had 
patience  and  penetration  enough  to  do  justice  to  the  un- 
recognized loyalty  and  affection  in  that  existence  of  which 
he  had  only  seen  the  envelope  of  flesh,  only  despised  the 
narrowness  and  ignorance  ?  She  knew  that  she  had  never 
,  loved  her  mother ;  she  felt  that  she  must  have  often, 
I  very  often,  caused  her  pain  and  humiliation.  She  had 
persistently  gazed  at  her  mother's  foolishness  and  com- 
monness ;  she  had  never  tried  to  be  just  to  her  better 
qualities. 

Fine  temperaments  are  always  cruelly  open  to  such 
self-reproach ;  she  never  ceased  to  blame  her  own  heart- 
lessness,  and  when  she  followed  her  only  relative  to  the 
grave  she  said  to  herself,  with  exaggerated  self-censure, 
that  she  had  rolled  more  than  one  stone  to  her  mother's 
cairn. 

She  had  indeed  been  indulgent,  submissive,  kind  beyond 


570  THE  MASSARENES. 

that  which  many  would  have  thought  incumbent  upon 
her,  but  she  forgot  that  she  had  been  so ;  she  only  re- 
membered her  own  lack  of  feeling,  her  own  intolerance 
and  antagonism,  her  own  contemptuous  isolation ;  all 
which  had  seemed  as  cold  as  Greenland  ice  to  the  poor 
dead  woman. 

As  regarded  her  own  future  she  had  made  no  plans. 
She  would  have  liked  to  take  charge  of  the  children's  or- 
phanage which  she  had  founded  in  her  mother's  name  in 
County  Down  ;  but  she  thought  to  do  so  would  look  as  if 
she  had  been  making  a  refuge  for  herself  in  creating  the 
institution.  She  wished  to  gain  her  own  living,  without 
favor,  simply  by  means  of  her  head  or  her  hands.  She 
inclined  toward  music;  she  was  enough  of  an  artist  to 
make  her  mark  in  it;  but  the  publicity  necessitated 
would,  she  knew,  be  very  distasteful  to  her.  For  the 
moment  she  decided  nothing,  but  when  she  had  buried 
her  mother  in  the  crypt  of  Vale  Royal,  according  to  her 
last  request,  she  returned  to  the  house  at  Bournemouth 
to  pass  there  the  few  months  during  which  it  was  still 
her  own.  The  Roxhalls  had  entreated  her  to  remain 
with  them,  but  she  felt  an  imperative  longing  for  soli- 
tude. 

"  You  are  much  too  young  to  live  alone,"  said  Roxhall 
to  her. 

"  I  feel  a  hundred  years  old,"  she  answered. 

A  great  weight  of  what  seemed  to  her  unending  regret 
lay  like  lead  on  her  life.  She  was  the  more  unhappy  be- 
cause happiness  had  been  offered  to  her,  and  she  had 
been  obliged  to  refuse  it,  or  had  thought  herself  to  be  so 
obliged.  It  would  have  been  happiness,  great  and  won- 
drous happiness,  but  she  tried  not  to  think  of  it,  lest  the 
memory  of  what  might  have  been  should  entirely  un- 
nerve her  for  the  combat  of  her  life  to  come.  For  one 
thing  she  was  thankful — people  had  by  this  time  quite 
ceased  to  talk  about  her.  Only  a  few  old  friends  like  the 
Framlinghams  and  Lady  Mary  Altringham  wrote  to  her* 
Nothing  is  easier  than  to  drop  out  of  people's  recollection 
if  you  wish  it ;  nor  is  it  difficult  if  you  don't. 

She  was  a  great  deal  on  the  sea  and  by  the  sea,  and 
passed  much  of  her  time  when  on  shore  in  the  pine- wood 


THE '  MASSARENES.  571 

which  belonged  to  the  grounds.  It  was  sheltered,  and  no 
one  ever  intruded  there ;  and  to  Argus  it  was  a  sylvan 
paradise. 

A  day  or  two  after  her  mother's  funeral  she  was  seated 
on  the  same  bench  where  Framlingham  and  Hurstman- 
ceaux  had  found  her  in  an  earlier  time.  She  was  reading 
a  letter  from  one  of  the  poor  people  whom  she  had  raised 
from  grinding  misery  in  the  States.  It  was  a  true  and 
tender  letter,  none  the  less  welcome  because  ill-writ  arid 
ill-spelt.  Sometimes  these  rude  letters  have  more  elo- 
quence in  them  than  lies  in  Bossuet  or  John  Newman. 

She  read  it  twice,  being  touched  by  it,  then  laid  it  down 
on  the  bench  and  looked  out  seaward. 

It  was  a  November  day,  but  still  and  bright.  In  the 
west,  beyond  the  heaving  expanse  of  grey  water,  the  sun 
was  going  in  rosy  mists  to  his  setting ;  the  outline  of  a 
great  liner  was  black  against  the  horizon  ;  midway  in  the 
Channel  there  were  some  fishing-boats,  trawlers,  who  had 
put  up  lights  betimes  at  their  mastheads.  Her  face  looked 
very  colorless  as  she  sat  there,  the  deep  dull  black  of  her 
dress  made  her  skin  look  like  snow  itself,  and  her  un- 
gloved hands,  as  they  rested  on  her  lap,  might  have  been 
the  sculptured  hands  carved  on  the  marble  breast  of 
some  recumbent  figure  in  a  ciypt. 

"I  have  often  wished  to  be  alone  and  free,"  she  thought. 
"  I  have  my  wish."  And  like  most  wishes  in  their  fulfil- 
ment, this  wish  of  hers  was  not  very  sweet. 

"May  I  speak  to  you?"  said  a  man's  voice,  which 
thrilled  through  the  innermost  nerves  of  her  being. 

Instinctively  she  rose.  Hurstmariceaux  was  standing 
as  he  had  stood  six  months  before :  he  had  his  face  to  the 
sunset ;  its  light  shone  in  his  blue  eyes  ;  he  'uncovered  his 
head  ;  he  did  not  touch  her  hand. 

"  I  have  come  from  Faldon  to  see  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
read  of  your  mother's  death." 

She  was  silent ;  she  had  no  idea  what  to  say  in  answer. 
4  Did  she  suffer  ?  " 
'  No  ;  happily,  not  much." 
'  You  buried  her  at  Vale  Royal  ?  " 
'  Yes  ;  your  cousin  Roxhall  gave  permission." 
4  Of  course  !  " 


572  THE  MASSARENES. 

Then  silence  ensued  between  them.  The  dog  stood 
looking  from  one  to  another;  the  sun  sank  down  beyond 
the  edge  of  the  far  sea. 

"  I  came  to  speak  to  you,"  said  Hurstmanceaux  with 
an  effort.  "  I  left  you  in  anger  and  offence,  and  you  had 
answered  me,  I  think,  in  too  great  haste." 

«  Oh,  no- 

"  Pardon  me ;  hear  me  to  the  end.  I  have  thought 
of  little  else  since  we  parted.  I  have  not  left  Faldon.  I 
have  seen  scarcely  anyone,  except  my  little  nephew  and 
his  tutor.  I  have  had  full  time  for  reflection.  Well, 
what  I  come  to  say  to  you  is  this.  Between  you  and 
me  there  ought  not  to  come,  there  ought  not  to  exist, 
any  unworthy  misunderstandings  born  of  doubt,  or  temper, 
or  suspicion.  Such  are  unworthy  of  us  both." 

"  There  was  no  misunderstanding." 

"  I  think  there  was.  You  chose  to  conceive  that  I  de- 
sired what  I  should  regret  if  I  obtained  it,  and  I  was  too 
much  in  haste  and  in  anger  to  prove  to  you  your  error. 
One  does  not  persuade  angels  to  bless  one's  life,  unless 
one  wrestles  with  them.  I  took  you  by  surprise.  Per- 
haps I  spoke  like  a  coxcomb  in  too  great  security.  I 
should  have  remembered  that  all  you  had  ever  seen  in  me 
had  been  intolerable  rudeness.  I  should  have  sued  you 
more  humbly " 

"Oh,  how  can  you  say  such  things?" 

"  I  say  the  truth.  I  was  too  rough,  too  rash,  too  con- 
fident. I  want  you  to  forget  that:  to  only  remember 
that  in  all  I  said  I  was  entirely  sincere,  and  that  in  all  you 
objected  in  answer  you  were  entirely  wrong — absolutely 
and  utterly  mistaken.  I  once  more  offer  you  my  name, 
my  heart,  my  life.  No  man  can  do  more,  I  earnestly  en- 
treat you  not  to  let  the  world's  conventionalities  or  your 
own  imaginations  part  us." 

She  was  profoundly  moved  by  the  words  ;  she  could  not 
doubt  their  truth  or  their  loyalty.  Incredible  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  it  was  clear  that  this  sentiment  which  had  brought 
him  hither  twice  was  one  both  deep  and  lasting.  But  she 
could  not  and  would  not  allow  herself  to  be  persuaded  to 
his  hurt. 

"What   did   my  poor  mother   say  on  her  deathbed? 


THE  MASSARENES.  673 

They  sent  me  away  from  her  to  be  '  made  a  lady  of.' 
Lord  Hurstmanceaux,  your  wife  must  be  one  born,  not 
made." 

He  was  silent ;  he  was  the   most  truthful  of  men  and 
he  believed  intensely  in  race. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I  should  be  false  to 
the  tenets  of  my  life  if  I  denied  the  influence  of  race.  But 
there  are  exceptions  to  all  laws.  There  are  beggars  whom 
a  Burleigh  fitly  mates  with ;  that  is,  I  think,  for  Burleigh 
himself  to  judge.  She  cannot  judge  because,  like  all 
generous  persons,  if  she  had  the  casting  vote,  she  would ' 
vote  against  herself.  Let  me  speak  for  once,  and  only  for: 
once,  of  a  subject  which  is  to  me  intolerable  pain  and 
shame.  My  sister,  my  best  beloved  sister,  who  is  thor- 
oughbred in  every  pulse  of  her  blood  and  every  fibre  of 
her  being,  dropped  to  the  level  of  a  courtezan  for  sake  of 
money.  She  was — there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it — your 
father's  mistress ;  of  details  I  know  nothing,  but  the  fact 
is  beyond  doubt." 

She  tried  to  silence  him. 

"Oh,  why — oh,  why  distress  yourself  thus?  He  is  dead 
— she  is  married  again— 

"Those  circumstances  alter  nothing.  The  fact  must 
have  been — what  I  say.  You  yourself  must  have  learnt 
or  concluded  it  from  his  papers." 

She  made  no  reply.  She  could  not  deny  what  was 
obvious. 

"Now,"  said  Hurstmanceaux,  and  his  face  was  white 
with  pain  as  he  spoke,  "  race  did  not  keep  unsoiled  in 
her  either  our  name  or  her  own  womanhood.  I  believe 
that  you  would  keep  both  my  honor  and  your  own  im- 
maculate. If  you  could  care  for  me,  do  not  let  appre-  • 
hensions  and  doubts  and  mistrust  divide  our  lives.  I  love 
you;  is  love  so  strange  a  word  to  you  that  you  cannot 
even  guess  what  it  wishes  and  suffers  ?  " 

His  eyes  rested  on  hers  as  he  spoke.      It  seemed  as  if  a' 
blaze  of  unbearable  light  inundated  her  soul. 

"  You  love  me !  "  she  said  in  a  hushed  voice  of  great 
amaze. 

"  I  love  you.  What  is  there  so  strange  in  that  ?  I  told 
you  so  six  months  ago." 


574  THE  MASSAZENES. 

She  threw  her  arm  round  a  young  pine  stem  near  her, 
and,  leaning  her  forehead  on  its  rough  bark,  burst  into 
tears. 

"Lead  me,  guide  me,  take  me  if  you  will,"  she  said 
brokenly.  "  I  have  trusted  to  my  own  wisdom,  and  per- 
haps I  have  always  done  wrong." 


THE  MA88ABENE8.  575 


CHAPTER  XL  VIII. 

THE  chateau  of  Les  Mouettes  was  lent  for  the  coming 
winter^  season  to  the  Prince  and  Princess  Woffram  of 
Karstein  by  its  owners,  who,  both  naturally  generous, 
and  made  more  genorous  still  by  happiness  and  a  sense  of 
gratitude,  were  unceasing  and  inexhaustible  in  the  wide- 
riess  of  their  goodwill.  It  was  always  well  to  oblige  per- 
sons who  are  led  away  by  their  feelings,  thought  the  re- 
cipient of  their  bounties.  Such  people  do  not  inquire  too 
minutely  or  measure  too  exactly.  It  is  of  such  as  these 
that  is  made  that  succulent  oyster  which  the  wise  man  or 
woman  opens  with  his  or  her  knife,  and  sucks  the  juices 
thereof. 

Mouse  had  fully  persuaded  herself  that  she  had  done 
an  admirable  action.  She  had  made  two  people  happy  ; 
if  their  happiness  were  idiotic,  and  to  her  incomprehen- 
sible, it  was  none  the  less  to  them  what  their  hearts  de- 
sired :  no  one  can  account  for  the  tastes  of  others. 

She  really  admired  herself  and  quite  succeeded  in 
forgetting  whatever  there  might  have  been  a  little  ques- 
tionable or  a  little  disagreeable  to  explain  about  her  visit 
to  Prince  Khris  on  his  deathbed.  The  documents  had  all 
been  quite  genuine  ;  if  she  had  embroidered  a  little  on 
the  plain  facts  of  how  she  had  obtained  them,  that  mat- 
tered to  nobody.  Neither  Vanderlin  nor  Olga  ever 
doubted  her  narrative,  and  their  gratitude  toward  her 
found  incessant  expression.  If  Prince  Woffram  doubted 
it  he  never  said  so.  He  had  accepted  its  resuts,  and  his 
lips  were  sealed. 

She  was  standing  on  the  sea-wall  of  the  Mouettes  on  a 
bright  and  balmy  morning,  looking  herself  as  radiant  as 
the  morning,  with  a  great  bunch  of  tea-roses  at  her  breast, 
and  a  gold-headed  cane  in  her  hand,  when  Daddy  Gwylliari, 
who  was  staying  at  Cannes,  came  to  her  from  the  garden 
side  of  the  sea-terrace. 

He  was  looking  brimful  of  news  and  of  amazement ;  a 
white  cashmere  neckerchief  was  wound  about  his  throat ; 


57G  TEE  MASSARENES. 

he  was  wearing  a  fur  coat  and  little  bunch  of  fresias  at 
the  buttonhole  of  it ;  he  was  visibly  agitated. 

"  My  dear  Princess  !  "  he  said,  pressing  her  hands  and 
quite  forgetting  that  he  disliked  her.  "  What  you  must 
suffer !  How  I  sympathize !  Who  could  ever  have 
thought  it !  A  man  of  such  sense  !  Perhaps  if  you  had 
not  left  England  it  would  not  have  happened !  " 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter,  Daddy?"  asked  Mouse, 
astonished  and  curious.  "  Have  you  come  to  bring  me 
bad  news  ?  " 

"  You  ask  me!"  cried  Daddy  in  amaze;  then  dropping 
his  voice  to  a  sepulchral  moan,  he  added,  "  Is  it  possible 
• — possible — that  you  have  not  heard  of  your  brother's 
fatal  act?" 

Over  her  face  a  cold  and  angry  shadow  passed. 

"Has  he  killed  himself?"  she  asked.  "I  don't  think 
he'd  ever  do  anything  half  so  agreeable  to  others." 

Daddy  GwylJian  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  I  am  really  grieved  to  be  the  bearer  of  such  tidings," 
he  said,  with  the  very  kneenest  relish  in  telling  them. 
"But  Ronnie — stay — you  know  that  the  Massarene 
woman  gave  all  that  immense  fortune  away  to  the  poor?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mouse  impatiently.  "  I  saw  all  that 
rubbish  in  the  papers  long  ago.  What  has  that  to  do 
with  Hurstmanceaux  ?  " 

"He  has  married  her!  "  ejaculated  Daddy.  "Now  ! — 
now  ! — when  she  hasn't  got  a  penny  !  Oh,  Lord  !  " 

"  What !  "  she  cried  in  turn,  as  she  rose  impetuously 
and  stared  at  him. 

"  My  dear  lady !  You  may  well  be  incredulous.  It 
does  seem  impossible  that  any  man  in  his  senses —  But 
he  married  her  yesterday,  down  at  Bournemouth." 

"You  foolish  old  gossip !"  she  cried,  with  a  concen- 
trated fury,  which  almost  stifled  her  voice.  "  Can  you 
think  of  nothing  better  than  to  frighten  one  with  such 
preposterous  inventions  ?  My  brother  would  never  even 
look  at  that  creature." 

"  I  may  be  an  old  gossip,  Princess,"  said  Daddy,  with 
high  offence  and  some  dignity,  "  but  I  do  not  consciously 
say  what  is  not  true.  Will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  read 
this  ?  " 


THE  MA8SAEENES.  577 

He  fumbled  beneath  his  fur  coat,  his  paletot,  and  his 
morning  coat,  and  brought  out  a  telegram,  which  he 
handed  to  her.  It  was  dated  from  Bournemouth,  and 
addressed  to  Daddy  himself. 

"  You  often  counselled  me  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Massarene.  I  am  happy  to  inform  you  that  I  have  done  K» 
this  morning.  The  ceremony  was  private :  Alberic  Orme 
officiated." 

It  was  signed — "Hurstmanceaux." 

She  read  the  lines  in  a  single  glance. 

"  You  advised  him  ?  You  advised  him  to  disgrace  us 
like  this !  "  she  cried  with  a  furious  gesture,  crushing  the 
dispatch  in  her  hand,  whilst  her  azure  eyes  poured  their 
lightning  upon  him. 

"I  advised  him  to  do  so  when  the  young  woman  was 
rich.  You  sent  her  down  to  Bedlowes  yourself  on  pur- 
pose to  bring  it  about.  Perhaps,  if  you  had  not  shown 
your  hand  so  openly,  he  might  have  done  it  when  it  would 
have  been  a  desirable  thing  to  do.  But  I  am  a  foolish  old 
gossip,  and  I  will  leave  you  to  digest — er — this  extremely 
unpleasant  fact.  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  good 
morning." 

He  took  himself  off,  very  huffed,  stiff,  and  alienated ; 
he  had  repossessed  himself  of  his  telegram. 

Mouse  stood  still,  convulsed  with  an  inward  fury,  for 
which  there  was  no  possible  outward  expression.  She 
was  stunned. 

He  had  done  it  on  purpose,  she  was  convinced !  On 
purpose  to  outrage  her ! 

"  Wherever  I  meet  them  first,"  she  said  between  her 
teeth  :  "  if  it  be  at  a  Drawing-room — I  will  cut  them  both 
dead  I " 

44  What  is  the  matter,  Sourisette  ?  "  asked  one  of  her 
women  friends  who  was  staying  with  her  and  approached 
as  Daddy  withdrew. 

"  You  may  well  ask  me.  My  brother  has  married  the 
lowest  of  low  women  !  " 

"  How  very  dreadful  for  you  !  "  said  the  lady  with  sym- 
pathy. "  But  are  you  quite  sure  ?  Because  when  I  came 
37 


578  THE  MASSARENES. 

away  from  England  last  week  they  said  be  was  going  to 
marry  Miss  Massarene,  the  daughter  of  your  good  old 
friend  Billy." 

Mouse  shuddered  within  herself.  She  could  not  hear 
the  name  of  William  Massarene  without  a  spasm  of  un- 
bearable remembrance,  and  she  felt  that  her  attitude  of 
hostility  was  difficult  to  explain. 

"  He  has  married  her.  That  is  just  the  horror  of  it !  " 
she  said  between  her  teeth.  "  You  know  what  they  all 
were,  the  lowest  of  the  low.  As  acquaintances  while  they 
had  their  money,  they  were  all  very  well:  but  as  a  con- 
nection— it  is  too  frightful !  I  will  never  speak  to  her — 
never,  never,  not  if  I  meet  her  at  Osborne  or  Windsor." 

A  servant  at  that  moment  brought  her  telegrams  from 
Carrie  Wisbeach,  and  various  other  members  of  her  family, 
all  repeating  the  news  and  reflecting  her  own  views  with 
regard  to  it. 

Such  a  mesalliance  !  If  the  money  had  been  there  it 
would  have  been  a  most  admirable  alliance,  a  most  suit- 
able arrangement,  a  most  excellent  choice ;  but  when  the 
money  was  all  gone  back  to  the  poor  from  whom  it  had 
been  extracted  originally,  the  union  was  positively  mon- 
strous. If  he  had  married  a  pauper  out  of  the  county 
workhouse,  it  would  have  been  less  insult  to  them;  so 
they  all  agreed. 

There  is  a  kind  of  cynical  frankness  about  "good  so- 
ciety," with  regard  to  its  love  of  money,  which  is,  perhaps, 
the  only  candid  thing  about  it.  It  sticks  like  a  swarm  of 
bees  where  money  is,  and  it  vanishes  like  locusts  before 
the  north  wind  where  it  is  not. 

All  the  family  and  all  the  connections  of  Hurstmanceaux 
viewed  his  marriage  as  she  viewed  it.  If  he  had  blown 
his  brains  out  they  would  have  been  less  shocked,  for  they 
would  have  been  able  to  say  that  he  had  had  an  accident 
with  a  revolver  or  a  repeating-rifle.  But  it  was  impossible 
for  them  to  explain  away  this  act  of  insanity  ;  and  though 
he  would  probably  live  down  in  the  country,  as  people 
should  do  who  are  ashamed  of  themselves,  still,  some  time 
or  other  they  would  have  to  meet  him,  and  they  felt  un- 
comfortably certain  that  the  head  of  their  house  would 
compel  from  them  respect  and  deference  toward  his  wife. 


THE  MASSARENES.  579 

Even  those  few  friends  who  were  sincerely  attached  to 
him  felt,  like  Daddy  Gwyllian,  that  they  could  not  ven- 
ture to  apologize  for  a  man  who  had  shown  such  culpa- 
ble indifference  to  his  own  interests  and  the  world's  opin- 
ion. 

44  What  has  disturbed  you,  my  heart's  dearest  ?  "  said 
Prince  Woffram  as  he  came  on  to  the  terrace  on  his  return 
from  a  golfing  match  ;  he  had  met  Daddy  Gwyllian  a  mile 
from  the  entrance  gate,  who  had  driven  past  him  merely 
touching  his  hat. 

"  What  has  disturbed  you  ?  "  he  continued.  "  Did  that 
pleasant  little  old  gentleman  come  to  bring  you  any  ill 
news?  " 

Her  answer  was  to  throw  the  telegrams  into  his  hands ; 
from  them  he  gleaned  some  idea  of  what  had  passed. 

44  Your  brother  marries  ?  Well,  what  does  that  mat- 
ter?" 

44  What?"  she  echoed,  her  eyes  shining  and  flashing 
with  fury.  "  If  he  had  married  a  woman  off  the  pave- 
ment of  the  Hay  market  he  could  not  have  disgraced  us 
more  utterly  !  And  for  Alberic  Orme  to  countenance 
such  a  disgrace  !  What  an  infamy  !  " 

The  young  man  raised  his  eyebrows  and  played  with 
the  tea-roses  of  the  balustrade.  The  placidity  of  his 
temper  opposed  itself  to  the  violence  of  hers  like  a  marble 
breakwater  to  the  fretting  fury  of  a  Venetian  lagoon  in 
December. 

44  She  will  have  my  eldest  son  with  her  to  poison  his 
mind  against  me !  "  she  added,  tears  of  genuine  rage  and 
grief  overflowing  her  lovely  eyes.  44  Have  they  not  even 
taken  away  my  only  daughter  from  my  guardianship?  " 

The  young  man  was  silent;  he  was  not  grieved  that  his 
friend  Boo  had  been  removed  to  England. 

44  He  has  married  her  merely  to  pass  this  insult  on  me !  " 
she  said  with  tears  which  burnt  her  eyes  like  fire. 

"  That  is  scarcely  probable,  my  beloved,'1  said  Prince 
Woffram  gently ;  44  the  lady  is  not  noble,  it  is  true  ;  but 
then  you  have  great  license  in  these  matters  in  Great 
Britain.  Your  Heralds'  Office  is  practically  a  box  of 
puppets." 

44 1  c^riijot  see,"  he  repeated,  44  why  you  should  be  thus 


586  TEE  MASSAEENES. 

affected.  The  lady  was  much  admired  in  London;  she 
had  great  musical  talent.  I  remember  my  cousins " 

"Great  musical  talent!"  echoed  Mouse  bitterly. 
"Whilst  she  had  her  money,  of  course,  they  gave  her 
every  talent  under  heaven  !  " 

She  heard  in  memory  the  harsh,  rude  voice  of  Massa- 
rene saying  of  her  own  songs : 

44  She  says  yours  is  bad  amatoor  music,  my  lady  ! " 

Oh,  how  she  hated  the  creature  !  And  to  think  she  was 
now  mistress  of  Faldon  ! 

Katherine  Massarene  mistress  of  Faldon  !  It  seemed  to 
her  an  outrage  too  intolerable  to  be  borne ! 

She  had  never  cared  to  go  to  Faldon  since  the  time  of 
her  marriage  to  Cocky;  she  had  always  railed  against  it 
as  the  dullest,  wildest,  and  most  out-of-the-way  place  upon 
.  earth.  She  would  have  perished  of  ennui  if  she  had  been 
•forced  to  pass  a  week  there  between  its  ancient  woods  and 
its  solitary  seas;  but  for  all  that  it  was  the  cradle  of  her 
race,  the  home  of  her  childhood,  the  house  of  her  mother. 
4To  think  of  "  Billy's  daughter"  as  reigning  there  was  an 
utterly  unendurable  insult!  And  the  bust  by  Dalou  and 
'.the  portrait  by  Orchardson  were  no  doubt  gone  there  al- 
ready, and  were  impudently  taking  their  place  in  the  gal- 
lery where  the  women  of  her  race  were  portrayed  and 
where  her  own  portrait  as  a  child,  painted  by  Millais,  hung 
in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun ! 

44 1  cannot  see  what  it  matters,"  repeated  Prince  Woff- 
ram,  turning  a  telescope  placed  on  the  balustrade  above 
the  tea-roses  on  to  a  distant  passing  yacht. 

He  had  become  a  very  philosophic  young  man  since  his 
marriage. 

The  quiet  common  sense  of  the  words  fell  like  mild  rain 
:On  the  raging  fires  of  her  fierce  indignation.  Perhaps  he 
;was  right  and  it  did  not  matter.  Perhaps  he  was  more 
•  right  than  he  knew  and  it  was  even  advantageous. 

If  Katherine  Massarene  had  not  talked  before  of  what 
she  had  found  in  her  father's  papers  she  certainly  would 
not  talk  now.  Shameful  as  Ronnie's  conduct  was,  he 
would  not  allow  his  wife  to  expose  his  sister.  It  was  a 
frightful  mesalliance,  but  it  had  its  serviceable  side.  A 
padlock  was  on  the  lips  of  "Billy's  daughter." 


THE  MASSARENES.  581 

"I  will  never  speak  to  her  if  I  meet  her  at  Osborne  or 
Windsor,"  she  repeated  suddenly. 

Prince  Wolfram  looked  round  from  the  telescope  and 
the  tea-roses. 

"  My  angel,"  he  said  very  gently,  "  that  would  be  to 
argue  yourself  unused  to  royal  circles,  and  it  would  bring 
down  on  you  many — many — oh  !  many  questions." 

"  You  would  have  me  make  advances  to  this  beggared 
wretch — this  scum  of  the  earth  !  " 

"No,  no,"  said  Prince  Woffram  soothingly.  "I  would 
not  suggest  to  you  to  make  advances.  To  make  advances 
is  to  put  oneself  in  the  wrong.  I  would  suggest  to  you 
to  await  events ;  and,  in  the  not  very  probable  coincidence 
which  you  imagine,  I  would  beg  you  to  remember  that  a 
great  sovereign's  invitation  confers  a  credential  which 
none  can  dispute." 

Since  he  had  trampled  on  his  conscience,  as  he  had  put 
away  his  sword,  Wuffie  had  substituted  for  them  much 
practical  common  sense,  and  in  very  bland  sentences  said 
things  which  smote  edgeways.  His  wife  at  times  won- 
dered how  much  he  guessed,  how  far  he  was  blinded,  and 
now  and  then  felt  a  spasm  of  fear  that  this  cherub-faced 
boy,  with  his  artless,  meaningless  smile,  might,  in  some 
things,  prove  her  master. 

It  is  dangerous  to  teach  a  man,  and  a  very  young  man, 
to  sell  his  soul.  Nature  will  substitute  something  else  for 
it,  something  which  you  will  not  like  when  you  learn  to 
know  it  well. 

She  felt  that  he  had  fully  determined  on  two  things : 
one,  that  he  would  be  well  paid  ;  the  other,  that  he  would 
not  be  compromised.  So  when  she  went  into  the  house 
she  tore  up  the  various  infuriated  telegrams  she  had  writ- 
ten in  answer  to  her  correspondents,  and  wrote  instead 
some  prettily-worded  intimations  that,  as  she  had  coun- 
seled her  brother  to  make  this  marriage  when  the  lady 
was  rich,  she  could  not  blame  him  for  making  it  now  the 
same  lady  was  poor,  and  could  only  hope  that  the  result 
would  be  as  fortunate  as  she  sincerely  desired  for  them 
both,  though  circumstances  had  arisen  which  unhappily 
estranged  her  from  Hurstmanceaux.  This  way  of  look- 
ing at  the  matter  was  at  once  so  angelic,  and  so  nice  and 


582  THE  MASSARENES. 

temperate,  that  it  suggested  an  idea,  which  gradually  fil- 
tered down  through  her  intimate  correspondents  and  per- 
meated society,  the  impression,  vague  but  general,  that 
William  Massarene's  daughter  had  jockeyed  her  out  of 
some  portion  of  William  Massarene's  fortune.  No  one 
could  explain  how,  but  every  one  thought  so.  Daddy 
Gwyllian  did  indeed  stoutly  declare  that  the  impression 
was  preposterous  and  untenable,  and  that  if  Hurstman- 
ceaux  had  broken  all  relations  with  his  sister  he  had 
doubtless  very  sound  reasons  for  doing  so.  But  Daddy 
was  waxing  old  and  society  was  getting  tired  of  him. 
When  people  live  too  long  they  outstay  the  welcome  of 
the  world. 


With  May  Harrenden  House  was  again  open.  The 
falconer  of  Clodion  leaned  and  laughed  in  silent  mirth  as 
the  throngs  of  society  passed  up  the  staircase  under  his 
gaze.  The  Massarenes  were  like  Malbrouck,  marts  et 
enterres,  and  an  Australian  wool-stapler  reigned  in  their 
stead,  worshipped  where  they  had  worshipped,  and  was 
guarded  by  their  lares  and  pe  nates.  Across  the  threshold, 
where  William  Massarene  had  been  carried  lifeless,  the 
great  world  he  had  loved  flocked,  as  the  water-fowl  011  the 
ponds  of  the  Green  Park  flock  with  equal  avidity  to  be 
fed,  no  matter  what  hand  it  may  be  which  scatters  the 
bread. 

Up  that  well-known  staircase,  under  the  eyes  of  the 
nude  falconer,  there  came  a  beautiful  and  very  fair  woman, 
who  had  often  been  up  those  stairs  before ;  a  fair  and  slim 
and  ever  blandly-smiling  youth  was  by  her  side,  who  had 
been  told,  as  children  are  told  in  the  nursery,  to  shut  his 
eyes  and  open  his  mouth,  and  who  had  done  so.  He  had 
been  rewarded,  for  a  great  many  good  things  had  dropped 
into  his  mouth.  England  had  become  for  him  what  it  is 
for  so  many  other  German  princelings,  the  Canaan  over- 
flowing with  milk  and  honey  where  he  could  enjoy  him- 
self at  other  people's  expense,  and  lead  the  first  flight  on 
other  people's  horses.  She  looked  about  her  as  she  passed 
on  through  the  reception-rooms:  nothing  was  changed, 


THE  MA8SAEENE8.  583 

nothing  of  any  importance,  and  she  herself  not  very  much. 
There  were  still  the  same  florid  Pietro  di  Cortona  high 
overhead  in  the  effulgence  of  the  electric  lamps,  still  the 
same  too  dark  and  dubious  Mantegna  hanging  above  a 
pyramid  of  Calla  lilies  and  damask  roses.  There  were 
only  no  longer  in  the  alcove  where  they  had  been  enshrined 
the  bust  by  Dalou  and  the  portrait  by  Orchardson  :  they 
were  at  Faldon  !  Insupportable  as  this  idea  was  to  her, 
the  outrage  had  its  silver  side ;  it  meant  silence,  entire, ' 
absolute,  on  the  part  of  her  brother's  wife. 

"Billy — you  brute! — I  have  been  stronger  than  you!" 
she  thought  as  she  passed  the  place  where  the  gold  vase 
of  Leo  the  Tenth  still  filled  the  humble  office  of  a  samovar. 
Life  had  once  more  become  easy  and  agreeable  to  her. 
Death  had  been  discriminating  and  Fortune  on  the  whole 
not  unkind. 

"The  poor  Massarenes  were  such  dear  good  friends  of 
mine,  but  you  have  so  much  more  taste  than  they  had," 
she  said  to  the  Australian  wool-stapler. 

And  he,  a  big  burly  heavy  man,  who  owned  many  mil- 
lions of  sheep  on  many  thousands  of  pastures,  and  had  as 
much  taste  as  one  of  his  wooly  wethers,  was  flattered,  and 
thrust  out  his  big  paunch,  and  thought  to  himself,  under 
the  sorcery  of  her  sm'ile,  why  should  he  not  succeed 
wherever  William  Massarene  had  succeeded? 

Why  not  indeed  ? 


THE  END. 


A  Few  Press  Opinions  on 

A  Living  Lie 

BY  PAUL  BOURGET 

\  12mOf  Cloth,  $1.25 ;  Paper  Covers,  5O  cents. 


Scotsman 

Mr.  de  Vallieres'  translation  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired,  and 
deserves  the  thanks  of  English  readers  for  having  rendered  acces- 
sible to  them  a  masterpiece  of  minute  analysis  of  character  and 
feeling. 

Pall  Hall  Gazette 

M.  Bourget's  celebrated  novel.  ...  it  is  good  to  find  a  transla- 
tion of  a  popular  French  novel  so  well  done  as  this  is,  and  the 
vivid  picture  of  Parisian  life  loses  nothing  of  its  force  or  truth  in 
its  English  dress. 

World 

"  Mensonges  "  is  undoubtedly  a  clever  story,  and  the  present  ver- 
sion is  excellent. 

Vanity  Fair 

The  book  itself  is  an  education  :  the  very  greatest  novel  of  analy- 
sis and  character  France  has  produced  since  Balzac. 

New  York  Commercial  Advertiser 

41  A  Ikying  I,ie,''  published  in  this  country  by  Fenno,  is  one  of 
the  earlier  works  of  Paul  Burget,  and  one  that  shows  both  the 
weakness  and  strength  of  his  methods.  In  an  introduction  written 
to  the  transtlation,  the  author  speaks  of  his  humble  decipleship  of 
Flaubert  and  Zola,  ard  perhaps  none  of  Bourget's  novels  better 
than  this  recent  translation  will  show  better  how  closely  the  stu- 
dent has  followed  the  masters,  especially  the  former.  But  one 
man  could  write  "Madame  Borany,'1  and  that  was  Flaubert,  buv 
there  are  portions  of  '•  Mensonges  "  that  would  lead  one  to  believe 
that  M.  Bourget  *hought  that  he  might  have  written  it  himself. 
Madame  Borany'.s  meeting  with  her  lover  in  a  house  of  ill-fame 
and  Rone's  meetings  with  his  mistress  might  even  seem  to  some 
as  an  illustration  of  where  the  pupil  had  learned  his  lesson  too 
well. 

As  for  the  story  itself  there  is  no  need  of  rehearsing  that.  It  is 
strong,  and  viewed  from  the  point  of  fiction  is  good.  But  since  M. 
Bourget  aspires  to  be  something  more  than  novelist,  to  be  an  an- 
alysist,  a  psychologist  and  f emit:  ologist,  it  would  be  wrong  to  ig- 
nore what  he  considers  his  best  labor.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be 
malapropos  to  quote,  in  relation  to  M.  Bourget's  study  of  women 
and  women's  mind,  what  Nietzsche  has  written,  that  we  are  puz- 
«led  when  we  try  to  probe  women's  mind,  not  because  it  is  so  deep, 
not  because  it  has  no  bottom — "it  is  not  even  shallow."  Which  is 
basely  cynical,  and  anyway  it  was  written  by  a  man  who  is 
now  in  a  mad  house.  But,  nevertheless,  it  is  a  good  sentence  to 
bear  in  mind  when  one  is  reading  the  works  of  a  feminologist. 
There  is  no  doubt  of  M.  Bourget's  intuitive  powers.  True,  that 
too  frequently  does  he  affirm  with  unbecoming  and  exultant  de- 
light and  misplaced  passion  that  two  and  two  are  four,  but  often 
this  leads  to  the  higher  and  more  complicated  problems,  such  as 
four  and  four  are  eight.  Surely  M.  Bourget  is  an  analyst,  but  he 
spends  too  much  time  analyzing  very  obvious  brick  walls. 

But,  "  A  I/iving  I^e  "  is  good  fiction,  if  it  is  not  good  literature. 
It  is  well  translated.  

*.  F.  FENNO  &  COMPANY,  112  Fifth  Ave.,  M.& 


A  Few  Press  Opinions  on 

Robert  Urquhart 

By  GABRIEL  SETOUN 

*2mot  Cloth,  Illustrated,  $1.00;  Paper  Covers,  50  Cents 


The  Outlook 

44  Robert  Urquhart,"  by  Gabriel  Setoun,  is  a  Scotch  story  possess 
ing  a  certain  degree  of  strength.  Courageous  indeed  is  the  writer 
to-day  who  brings  his  work  in  contrast  with  that  of  Ian  Maclaren. 
Crockett,  and  J.  M.  Barrie.  Comparison  between  these  masters  and 
the  lesser  lights  there  cannot  be. 

Toledo  Blade 

In  "Robert  Urquhart,"  by  Gabriel  Setoun,  the  lovers  of  Scotch 
stories  will  experience  a  delight  the  same  as  felt  in  the  reading  of 
"The  lyilac  Sunbonnet,"  "Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush,"  "The 
I4ttle  Minister,"  and  other  novels  and  tales  in  which  are  found 
tender  pathos,  delicate  humor  and  a  dramatic  construction.  The 
character  of  old  Rob  cannot  fail  to  impress  all  readers,  winning 
their  love  by  his  simple  kindness  ;  while  the  schoolmaster's  sturdy 
manliness  calls  forth  feeling  of  liking  and  respect,  with  a  desire 
that  he  shall  gain  his  heart's  wish.  The  story  is  well  worth  a 
reading. 

Sunday  Times 

Covers  of  a  good  story,  which  is  at  the  same  time  good  literature, 
and  especially  lovers  of  the  Scotch  atmosphere  and  temperament, 
will  enjoy  "  Robert  Urquhart."  This  is  a  new  book  by  Gabriel 
Setoun,  published  by  R.  F.  Fenno  &  Company.  The  central  char- 
acter is  a  school  teacher,  not  the  periwig  oid  goose  who  has  so  long 
been  strutting,  conventional  to  a  hair  through  Scotch  stories,  but  a 
man  of  head  and  heart  endowments  which  appeal  to  the  head  and 
the  heart  for  our  belief,  sympathy  and  love.  If  Mr.  Setoun  had  not 
the  originality  to  lead  the  way,  he  has  at  least  the  genius  to  follow 
with  highest  credit  in  the  paths  of  Barrie,  Maclaren  and  Crockett, 
and  who  will  say  it  is  not  as  hard  to  follow  creditably  in  beaten 
paths  as  to  charm  public  fancy  with  a  trifle  when  it  is  new  ? 

TImes=Union 

44  Robert  Urquhart."  This  is  an  entertaining  novel,  well  written, 
with  a  good  plot  and  with  many  of  the  essentials  of  a  book  of  the 
highest  character.  Its  pretty  binding  should  also  be  mentoned,  and 
in  this  it  suggests  itself  as  a  present  to  a  friend.  Its  author  is  Gabriel 
Setoun.  It  is  a  Scotch  tale.  Its  pathos  is  as  sweet,  its  humor  as  deli- 
cate, its  construction  as  dramatic  and  its  characters  as  lovable  as  any 
to  be  found  in  the  other  Scottish  stories  which  have  caught  the  fancy. 

Kansas  City  Journal 

An  American  edition  of  4'  Robert  Urquhart "  will  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  many  thousands  who  have  read  and  enjoyed  4*  The  I^ilac  Sun- 
bonnet  "  '4  A  Galloway  Herd,1'  "  Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush,"  and 
44  The  kittle  Minister  "  and  they  will  find  within  its  covers  a  pathos 
as  sweet,  a  humor  as  delicate  a  construction  as  dramatic,  and  char- 
acters as  lovable  as  are  to  be  found  in  any  of  the  above-mentioned 
works. 

R.  F.  FENNO  &  COMPANY,   112  Fifth  Arcnue,  N.  Y. 


A  Few  Press  Opinions  on 

The  Professor's  Experiment 

By  MRS*  HUNGERFORD  (The  Duchess) 

12mo,  Cloth,  $1.25;  Paper  Covers,  50  Cents 

9j?    <$? 

The  Watchman 

"The  *  experiment,'  which  gives  name  to  the  story,  is  a  weird 
one  and  picturesquely  presented,  reminding  one  faintly  of  the  old 
French  story  of  the  *  Broken  E)ar.'  It  turns  the  red  light  briskly  on 
the  hero  and  heroine,  who,  having  been  thus  vividly  introduced  to 
us  and  to  each  other,  proceed  to  the  business  of  the  occasion  by  fall- 
ing in  love  with  each  other  and  entangling  themselves  in  divers  nets 
of  embarrassing  circumstances,  settling  away  from  the  storm  to  a 
peaceful  horizon  of  marriage  at  last.  It  has  become  necessary,  in 
these  days,  to  indicate  the  exceptional  and  welcome  fact  that  this  is 
a  pure  story ;  painting  cheery  pictures  of  normal  domestic  life,  and 
opening  no  side  doors  to  encourage  the  stealthy  adventures  of  a 
prurient  fancy.  It  is  a  novel,  strictly  speaking,  involving  neither 
sermon  nor  stump  speech.  It  offers  entertainment  only,  but  it  gives 
what  it  offers  ;  resting  the  tired  brain  and  leaving  no  poison  in  the 
blood." 

Evening  Bulletin 

"It  is  a  capital  story  of  an  Irish  savant,  who,  like  the  magicians  of 
mediaeval  days,  passed  his  years  in  concocting  a  draught  to  put  his 
subjects  to  sleep.  Fortunately  a  beautiful  girl  of  eighteen  is  found 
insensible  on  the  professor's  doorstep.  She  becomes  his  patient, 
enters  upon  a  long  sleep,  and,  in  the  '  large  awakening,*  learns  that 
she  is  heiress  to  an  immense  fortune  and  the  professor's  grand- 
daughter." 

Indianapolis  Journal 

"  'The  Professor's  Experiment '  is  the  title  of  a  new  book  by  Mrs. 
Hungerford  (The  Duchess).  It  is  of  a  somewhat  more  elaborate 
and  ambitious  character  than  this  writer's  recent  stories,  and  shows 
a  return  to  her  earlier  manner.  The  heroine  is  the  impulsive, 
warm-h carted  young  Irish  girl  with  whom  all  Mrs.  Hungerford's 
readers  are  well  acquainted,  but  of  whom,  in  her  various  phases  and 
reappearances  they  do  not  tire. 


R.  F.  FENNO  &  COMPANY,  1 12  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 


A  Few  Press  Opinions  on 

The  Unclassed 

By  GEORGE  GISSING 

^HWi  doth,  Illustrated,  $1.25;  Paper  Covers,  50  Cents 

Outlook 

It  shows  remarkable  powers  of  observation  and  realistic 
reproduction  of  certain  phases  of  life.  It  deals  with  the 
life  of  the  "  unclassed  "  very  bluntly,  and  with  unneces- 
sary detail,  but  there  is  no  intention  to  pervert  morals. 

Boston  Post 

The  story  is  full  of  strong  and  telling  situations,  a 
story  in  which  the  realism  often  impinges  closely  upon 
the  ideal.  In  many  places  the  book  is  absorbing  in  its 
interest. 

N.  Y.  Advertiser 

It  is  a  story  of  the  struggling  ones,  struggling  against 
and  for  class  distinction  ;  struggling  to  keep  from  going 
down  into  the  "  lowest  class  ;  "  struggling  to  reach  the 
class  where  bread  and  butter  are  not  the  only  living 
cries. 

Buffalo  Commercial 

Mr.  Gissing  has  secured  a  place  in  the  front  rank  of 
the  best  English  novelists,  and  any  story  of  which  he  is 
the  author  will  be  widely  and  eagerly  read.  '*  The  Un- 
classed "  is  a  thrilling,  intensely  dramatic  story. 

rieadville  Stylus 

Ida  Starr  is  a  child  of  ten  years  when  the  story  opens. 
It  closes  with  her  marriage.  We  are  permitted  to  ob- 
serve her  character  in  all  the  stages  of  its  development 
from  a  childhood  all  love  and  gentleness,  through  a 
solitary  and  defenseless  girlhood  spent  in  a  desperate 
Struggle  against  the  poverty  that  ends  in  starvation, 
through  her  temptation,  her  fall,  and  her  redemption 
through  love.  There  are,  curiously  enough,  no  traces 
of  the  influence  of  the  naturalistics  chool  in  Mr.  Gis- 
sing's  work.  The  entire  story  is  planned  and  wrought 
cut  with  the  greatest  imaginable  delicacy. 


R.  P.  FENNO  &  COMPANY,  112  Fifth  Ave,  N,  T. 


A  Few  Press  Opinions  on 

Uncle  Scipio 

BY  MRS.  JEANNETTE  H.  WALWORTH 

12mo,  Cloth,  $1.25;  Paper  Covers,  5O  Cents 


Public  Opinion 

A  very  effective  story  of  the  reconstruction  days  in  Mississippi  is 
Mrs.  Jeannette  H,  Waiworth's  "  Uncle  Scipio."  It  is  bright  and 
healthy,  with  a  well  devised  plot,  full  of  incident  and  entertaining. 
Stories  based  on  those  days  of  fermentation  are  not  at  all  rare,  but 
Mrs.  Walworth,  being  a  transplanted  Northener,  has  been  able  to 
take,  not  a  dispassionate  view,  but  that  of  a  warm-hearted,  clear- 
headed woman.  Her  novel,  however,  is  by  no  means  a  political 
argument;  the  time  is  in  the  early  seventies,  and  the  situation 
which  then  existed  in  the  South  is  merely  a  background  for  a  good 
story,  which  is  about  the  best  Mrs.  Walworth  has  written. 

Courier 

Mrs.  Waiworth's  stories  of  Southern  and  negro  life  are  vivaciously 
characteristic  of  people  and  scenes  of  that  portion  of  our  country, 
and  they  reveal  charming  pictures  of  a  variety  of  types,  grave  and 
gay.  This  is  a  love  story,  set  in  the  gay  picturesque  Mississippi 
Valley,  describing  the  conditions  that  prevailed  immediately  after 
the  war  of  the  rebellion.  Mrs.  Walworth  is  a  Southerner  by  adop- 
tion, and  she  is  thus  enabled  to  give  us  a  true  and  sympathetic  iu- 
sight  that  is  certain  to  please  and  at  the  same  time  instruct. 

Commercial  Advertiser 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Walworth  has  already  some  celebrity  as  a  story  writer. 
44  Uncle  Scipio,"  which  has  made  its  appearance  fresh  from  her  pen, 
is  a  love  tale,  set  in  the  picturesque  Mississippi  Valley.  As  a  Nor- 
thern woman  the  writer  finds  much  in  the  country  ot  her  adoption, 
immediately  following  the  cival  war,  to  strike  her  with  peculiar 
force.  She  is  thus  enabled  to  give  a  true  and  sympathetic  insight  that 
is  certain  to  please  and  at  the  same  time  instruct.  "  Uncle  Scipio," 
the  hero  of  the  story,  is  a  dear  old  negro  slave  of  the  Uncle  Tom 
variety,  for  whom  the  reader  is  bound  to  form  a  genuine  admira- 
tion and  attachment  before  he  lays  down  the  book. 

Post 

A  love  story  set  in  the  Mississippi  Valley,  describing  the  condi- 
tions that  prevailed  immediately  after  the  War  of  the  Rebellion. 
Mrs.  Walworth  is  a  Southerner  by  adoption?  and  she  is  thus  ena- 
bled to  give  us  a  true  and  sympathetic  insight  that  is  certain  to 
please  and  at  the  same  time  instruct.  Uncle  Scipio  is  a  dear  old 
negro  slave  that  you  are  sure  to  become  attached  to  before  the  vol- 
ume is  laid  aside. 

Plain  Dealer 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Waiworth's  "  Uncle  Scipio  "  is  a  story  of  the  South  the 
time  of  which  is  the  reconstruction  period  but  the  action  had  its 
beginning  in  the  ante-war  days  and  was  shaped  by  the  events  of 
the  great  struggle.  ll  Uncle  Scipio  "  is  the  old  negro  whose  remin- 
iscent gossip  with  the  visiting  agent  of  a  Northern  land  syndicate 
brings  out  the  story  which  Mrs.  Walworth  narrates  with  the  skill 
of  a  practical  novelist. 

R.  F.  FENNO  &  CO.,  112  Fifth  Ave.,  N.  Y. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


AUTO  DISC  CIRC  JUN 


2  2  '94 


NOV  071998 


LD  21A-50m-9,'58 
(6889slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


YB  733bl 


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